


Bats of Notre Dame

by mayonaka_no_sasayaki



Series: Touchdown Series [2]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: American Football, F/M, Female Kobayakawa Sena, Friendship, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Graduation Trip, High School, Hints of HiruSena, HiruSena, HiruSena - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Notre Dame Fighting Irish, Notre Dame University, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayonaka_no_sasayaki/pseuds/mayonaka_no_sasayaki
Summary: Prepare yourself, Notre Dame! The Devil Bats are here to raise hell!





	1. Rule of 21

**Author's Note:**

> This is a break down to the 10th chapter (9th DOWN: CHALLENGER'S DECLARATION) of my main fic: Survivor because it's ridiculously long. Breaking it down isn't an option in the main story because that's how I planned it to be but I understand it's not easy to read it in one go so I decided to break it down as a tie-in instead.

 

 

* * *

  **RULE OF 21**

* * *

 

 

Sena goes home that night after the graduation party around 11 PM, still in a state of shock and finds her parents waiting up for her. She wonders how she's going to tell her parents about Hiruma's latest bout of mayhem.

She's going to  _America_.

Surprisingly, Sena doesn't meet much resistance. In fact, she's surprised to find that Hiruma had actually gone out his way to give her parents a heads up.

"It surprised us too when he came by to inform us," Mihae reassures. "But considering all the things you told us about him and not to mentioned the things we've learned and seen since we met him, I think it's safe to say that for as long as he's gonna be in your life, Sena, this is gonna be normal now," Mihae checks over Sena's renewed passport and taps over the empty signature. "Do you want to go?"

Sena's answer lacks any hesitation that would've been typical of her not too long ago. "Yes."

Mihae nods. "Alright then. Personally, I think it's a nice idea for a graduation trip."

"I wanted to ask how he arranged all of this but I think we can all agree that the less we know, the better." Shūma furrows his brows. "Just take good care of yourself, alright?"

Sena smiles, relieved. "I will."

"Is your English okay, though?"

Sena blinks, before nodding slowly in sudden realisation. "Yeah. Me and the others mostly talk in English at the base. I think someday down the line, Hiruma-san was planning to bring us to America." She slouches, placing her chin on top of the dining table with a pout. "Although, I think I accidentally bump that plan ahead."

Shūma quirks a smile. "How did that happen?"

"Because of my habit of saying my thoughts out loud without realising it until it's too late." Sena groans into the table.

When Sena looks up, her parents look unfairly amused.

"Do you know how long this trip is going to be?"

She shakes her head. "Knowing Hiruma-san, it could just be a day or it could probably be almost the whole of spring break. Best be prepared."

"Just make sure to tell us if there's a change of plans."

"Sure thing, Tou-san."

Mihae hands over the passport. "Better get packing, it says that you're leaving tomorrow morning at eight."

"Some days, I really want to thwack Hiruma-san upside that genius head of his," grumbles Sena, taking the proffered item.

Mihae snickers. "Don't let him hear that. It could've been worse."

"I know. But like I said, my habit made sure he's heard much more ridiculous things than that," Sena sighs as she stands to prepare for her trip, scratching her cat; Pit, behind her ears as Sena passes by.

When she finally finishes in packing her bags at ten past midnight, Sena crashes face first onto her bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

Hours later, after waking up at sunrise and saying her goodbyes to her family, Sena drops heavily into her seat by the window, still feeling groggy. It's not the first time she'll be going abroad, what with her maternal grandparents living in India and all; but it  _is_  her first trip to America. Most likely, it will not be her last.

A cool, professional voice floats over. "All passengers please take your seats, ensure that your tray table is in the correct position and your seatbelts are secured in preparation for takeoff."

Doing as she's told, Sena glances around the length of the cabin but because of her short stature and that she's at the window seat, Sena can barely make out anybody else, though she does know they're all seated nearby to one another. And close to the cockpit (Hiruma's doing, no doubt). She and Monta are sharing a row while Kurita and Komusubi are at the row parallel to hers. Hiruma, naturally has a whole row to himself and Cerberus directly in front of her own. Sena is sad to note that Musashi and the sankyōdai hadn't been able to join them.

Beside her, Monta shakes with excitement as he whisper-shouts to Sena. "This is MAX awesome! I'm so excited! Are you excited?"

Sena laughs nervously. "Yeah." And she is, really she is, but she's also terrified; setting off on a journey to foreign soil just to have a chance to take up the right to challenge the infamous Eyeshield 21. It's nerve wreaking.

By the time they take off, most of the Bats have already fallen into a deep sleep; no doubt the exhaustion from the last few days, the last few  _weeks_  finally catching up to them. Before succumbing into the land of dreams herself, Sena leans up and over to Hiruma's seat, running a soothing hand to Cerberus' stomach as the dog twitches happily in his slumber. Hand pillowing her head, she turns to give Hiruma a sleepy smile that tinges with exasperated fondness and gestures around them to indicate the general situation.

"Were you ever sane, Hiruma-san?"

There's actually a hint of tiredness in those fierce eyes as Hiruma quirks a subdued smirk. The quarterback reaches up to tug Sena's ear as Hiruma's smirk widens into a grin, voice a dark and devious rumble as he answers. "Hell no."

Huffing out a soft laugh, Sena brushes her fingers across Hiruma's knuckles. "Its time out. Please get some rest too, Hiruma-san." She listens to Hiruma's answering scoff as he lets go of her ear, allowing Sena to settle back into her seat. Sena watches as Tōkyō disappears beneath them, morning clouds filling the sky. She rests her head against the window, letting the winding, wispy colors of the horizon lulls her to sleep.

The next time she's awake, Sena realizes that they're only two hours away from their destination. Idly, she really has to wonder how exhausted she must've been if she slept almost through the whole journey. Sena hopes the others are just as well rested since adjusting to time zones have never been all that much fun. She spends the rest of the time reading a book or manga and doodling.

"It's my first time being outside of Japan and it feels MAX great!" Monta exclaims, bouncing in his seat. He turns to Sena, eyes big and excited. "What about you, Sena? Ever been out of the MAX awesome Land of the Rising Sun?" The other teen gestures that last bit with grandeur, raising a pointed finger up in the air.

Sena giggles. "I've gone to India a lot to visit my mom's parents."

"For real? Does that mean you got Indian blood?"

"No. They're both Japanese, it's just that they decided to live there after the war." Sena taps her chin. "Baa-chan said that they wanted a more suitable home for themselves after what happened. That so many things that used to be so familiar, didn't seem that way anymore and that even though they were gonna be in a foreign land, they were determined to create a place for themselves, no matter how long it takes."

"That was MAX brave of them."

She smiles, feeling her chest tightens at the thought of her grandparents' bravery even when their granddaughter has been a coward for so long. "Yeah…it really was."

"They still around?"

"Yup. We tend to visit them in winter break."

"MAX cool," Monta gasps, shaking her arm. "Does this mean you know how to speak Indese?"

She feels a sweat drop, while Hiruma snorts in his seat and mumbles something that sounds particularly disgruntled. Sena clears her throat. "It's Hindi, Monta."

Monta rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. "Right, sorry."

Sena shrugs, patting Monta's arm reassuringly. "Yeah, I can."

"MAX! That means you can watch Bollywood movies without subtitles, huh? My mom would've love that!"

Sena snickers. "Yeah, it especially comes in handy for whenever all those dramatic scenes come up."

When the announcement of their impeding arrival floats by, she and Monta watches with trepidation as Hiruma and Cerberus make their way to the cockpit. Monta glances at her in question. She's confused as to why her friends keep doing that whenever Hiruma is involved. She doesn't know how that scary yet brilliant mind works.

Sena shakes her head. "I don't think we want to know."

"Agreed MAX."

After awhile, she notices Monta starting to fidget, looking very nervous and unsure. When she place a hand on Monta's shoulder, her friend suddenly blurts out. "Is it really okay for me to be here?" When she opens her mouth to question that, Monta barrels on through. "I mean, I know I said that I want to really give football a try but that really doesn't make me a part of the team, right?"

Sena smiles, squeezing the shoulder under her hand comfortingly. "Maybe not yet. But you wouldn't be here if you didn't think that this trip can help you find a more concrete answer, right?"

Monta sighs, lying his head against the headrest. "That and Hiruma-senpai would've shot me."

"True." Sena spies the doubt in his eyes. "I can listen if you want? I may not understand everything but I can try." She pulls her hand back when she realizes how presumptuous that sounds, nervously waving her hands. "That is, if you want to. You're not obliged to tell me."

"Sena," Monta begins with a chuckle. "You're one of my MAX best friends, you don't need to be so afraid to offer your help, y'know?" He runs a hand down his face as he begins hesitantly. "Have you ever been afraid of finding your answer and not knowing if you'll be able to handle that answer or even be ready for it?"

Sena abruptly recalls her first run and subsequent touchdown, the sharp pain of realization that she's been a cowardly idiot all along, and the fear and doubt that griped her like a vice, chocking her and making her question a lot of things that she thought she understood on how her life should be. Though it gave her new perspectives, it also made her wonder if she can change and grow instead of slowly withering away, subservient to her self-doubt and excuses; to be taken advantage by people for the rest of her life.

Gulping, she lets out slow breath and nods. "All the time."

"Does that fear goes away when you find that answer?"

"...Not immediately. It comes back sometimes."

Monta nods, as if he suspects it. Sena hopes that whatever meager insight she can give, it'll help her friend instead of hindering him. "When that happens, it helps to have people we care about around us."

"I don't want them to find an answer for me, though. It's just…MAX wrong."

Sena nods. "I don't think they're supposed to, nor that they should. But knowing that they're there for us, it gives us the…extra boost, I guess, to go on for just a little while longer."

Monta grips his knees. "Is that why you didn't want to steal the Eyeshield title? Because don't get me wrong, I thinks it's MAX awesome either way but is it your way to an answer?"

Sena bites her bottom lip. "It's  _a_  way. And I know it's incredibly rude of me, but when it comes to people, to my peers especially, I— um, never really had much of a will of my own...I've always gone along with their whims because I thought it'd make them like me. That they'd be nicer if I just listen to them...that I could make friends outside of Mamori-neechan," Sena rambles on, playing with her ponytail. "It's lame since I've only realized how backwards that really is just recently and—"

She lets go of her ponytail to pinch her bottom lip. "No. I knew it wasn't right...I just thought it was a given, that I deserved to be bullied and to be bossed around. So...I never fought back because I was so scared that I'd lose that little peace I had in my school life and that it was easier to just let it be than to do something about it because if I do, I'd be like a nail that stands out only to be hammered back down.

But Eyeshield 21...to be able to earn it means that maybe I can do this, that I can change and do right by me for once. It's inconsiderate of me to use the title as a sort of validation and..." Sena trails off as guilt roils in her stomach. Clearing her throat, she glances at the window and sees signs of Indiana breaking through the horizon. "I  _do_  want it. Not just as a validation but because I'm a running back, an athlete in training." Sena takes a breath, looking back at the attentive Monta. "Because I too, want a win for the team." Sena shrugs. "I just wish I'm not so selfish about it."

Monta hums thoughtfully. "I don't think you're selfish," Monta says after awhile, which yes, she appreciates the sentiment but Sena can't really bring herself to agree. "I think you're doing what's best for yourself and that takes a MAX lot of guts, y'know?" The boy rubs his nose. "Just wish I can find all of my answers as soon as possible since I don't like this whole uncertainty thing. I've always been the kind of guy that's just go fwoop! Y'know?"

Sena sweatdrops as Monta gestures wildly in his seat. "I t-think so."

Suddenly, Monta shoves a hand to her, eyes determined. "Let's be scared together."

"Alright…" She quirks a smile, taking the proffered hand and careful to adopt a light tone. "but I rather that you don't lump yourself with a selfish coward though."

"Mukyaa! You're not a selfish coward!"

"I—"

"Monta-kun is right."

She and Monta jerk in surprise as Kurita and Komusubi join them in their row, with Komusubi taking the seat beside Monta while Kurita sits beside his apprentice.

Kurita appears oddly stern. "Sena-chan, I've known you for awhile now and believe me when I say that you're one the most selfless people I've ever met."

"Fugo!" Komusubi nods fervently.

Sena frowns as she points out. "I took a week break not too long ago, Kurita-san. Not to mentioned all the trouble and worry that must've caused you all."

Kurita shakes his head. "If anyone is selfish, it's us, Sena-chan. We were the ones who dragged you into football."

While that's true, there's also no denying the fact that it's one of the best things that has happened to her. "And I'm grateful that you did. I wouldn't have understand how much of my life I've wasted by being both a coward and everyone's gopher." Sena grimaces. "Though to be honest, I'm still terrified half of the time. I mean, my hands shook so bad before I got into Fujioka-kōchō's office."

"F-faint!" Komusubi admits with a shudder.

Monta nods after a pause. "Yeah! I would've MAX passed out on the spot if I was in your place, Sena! I mean, the Oda couple were quite the monster parents."

"Still..."

"If you were still a fucking coward," Hiruma's voice cuts through, startling them all. "You'd be just like the idiot that shared your family's namesake," Hiruma states as he throws himself into the remaining seat besides Kurita, kicking his feet up on the back of the row in front of him. It earns him quite a number of annoyed looks from flight attendants but none of them move to reprimand the quarterback.

All of the Devil Bats give a collective sigh while Hiruma smirks at them knowingly.

"Namesake...?" Monta furrows his brows then smacks a fist to his palm. "Ah! Kobayakawa Shūtoki, the honored!"

Hiruma's brow twitches dangerously as Sena sweatdrops. "Monta..." Sometimes, she forgets that Monta has trouble with his vocabulary. And kanji.

"What?"

Hiruma pinches the bridge of his nose. "Somebody teach the fucking monkey Japanese for fuck's sake..."

"Monta, his name was Kobayakawa  **Hideaki** , the  **dis** honored." Sena gently corrects the confused boy.

"Eh? Really?" Monta cradles his chin. "I wonder if that's why I had so much trouble when it comes to Sekigahara."

Kurita chuckles heartily before turning serious, trading glances with Hiruma who grunts as he makes a shooing motion. Kurita nods. "Sena-chan, Monta-kun, courage isn't the absence of fear, it's having that fear and finding a way to conquer it."

"Correction, fucking fatass," Hiruma interjects as he waves his signature AK-47 at them all, not unlike when someone wags a scolding finger to a disobedient child. "You don't conquer it. You fucking kill it!" He unlocks the safety. "Got it, fucking brats?"

They all nod hastily.

Hiruma grins. "Good."

Kurita gives Hiruma an exasperated smile. Sena has to wonder if it's something they all might develop the longer they're in Hiruma's presence. Sena certainly has. Though in her case, Sena thinks she's grown inordinately fond of the demon quarterback; a fact that makes her worry for her own sanity at times.

...Ah well. It doesn't have to be a bad thing; being fond of Hiruma Yōichi.

"My point," Kurita emphasizes. "Is that it's okay to be afraid, just as long as you don't let your fears control and ruin you." The center gives them all a firm look.

She and Monta look at each other before Monta nods back at the seniors. "Understood, Kurita-senpai, Hiruma-senpai."

They stay like that, all in one row as the flight taxies into place, right into the South Bend International Airport. Sena is surprised when a flight attendant comes to inform them that they're free to leave the plane ahead of the people in the lower classes until she sees the smug smirk on Hiruma's face.

Ah, only him.

It's a quick thing, getting up and off the plane, and through all the formalities that must be covered when entering a new country. After grabbing their bags, they pile into a taxi-van, heading straight to Morris Inn, located within the prestigious campus of Notre Dame. By the time they arrived and got themselves checked in, it's already nine. It's a bit discerning, knowing that they left in the morning, sat through a twelve hour flight and arrived on the same date, around the same time they left. Since it's breakfast time, American time, they make their way to the restaurant connected to the inn, and immediately afterwards sit down to make their game plan. Which, thankfully, is relatively simple. They're to meet with one of Notre Dame's coaches so they can meet Eyeshield 21 to initiate a challenge and then spend the rest of trip by touring one of the most beautiful campus' in the States.

Simple enough.

"Rule of 21?" Sena asks the coach, a southern gentleman named William Yost.

Sena is sitting across from Coach Yost in his office, a sharp, dustless room decked in antique cherry woods, plush blue and gold fabrics, and herringbone accents—pillows, curtains, the trim on the area rug. This is the definition of class. Sena is afraid to touch anything especially being as sweaty as she is right now, because frankly, it looks like no one has left so much as a fingerprint on a single surface of the room. Ever.

William Yost, on the other hand, is wearing a blue tracksuit with the ND logo over the left breast. After introducing themselves an hour ago at the training facility, Sena promptly explained the reason behind her visit to Notre Dame. For an unknown reason, Yost was initially hesitant to speak of Eyeshield 21 but after Hiruma…persuaded him, Yost eventually gave them a summary about the traditions and conditions in being Eyeshield 21, informing them that if Sena wants to challenge Eyeshield, she first needs to be affiliated in some way to Notre Dame. Since transferring is not an option, Sena instead chose to do the 21 in the Quads, a test to see how quickly she can recover a stamp from each twenty-one historical buildings within the campus, from the Main Building till all the way to the South Dining Hall. Once she succeeded in record time, Yost reluctantly invited them to his office with two other coaches following closely behind.

So here she is, sitting on the matching wooden armchairs with heavy blue and gold cushions, sweating and panting slightly from running almost two miles to and fro around seventy acres worth of locations.

Yost leans back on his chair. "That's right. Miss Kobayakawa, since you've passed the 21 in the Quads, you can now participate the initiation ceremony that is the Rule of 21."

"I…see."

Yost nods, gesturing to the two other coaches behind him, to the glasses wearing offensive coordinator, Steve DeSantos and the stocky defensive coordinator, Justin Foster. "The three of us are responsible for the challenger candidates. With the first tradition; being affiliated to Notre Dame has been met, the next step is the Rule of 21 which is for you to participate in a match alongside our NCAA team, the Fighting Irish for exactly twenty-one minutes. After that, your performance will be evaluated by us; the Notre Dame's football management for validation of initiating the challenge to Eyeshield 21."

Okay, maybe not so simple enough.

Sena clenches her hands, catching the gazes of her teammates before turning her attention back to the coaches with a confused frown. "Match? But I thought spring is for practices in college football?"

Yost nods. "That's true but we're taking a break to have an exhibition match with the Huskies. You came to visit us just at the right time darlin'."

When she glances at the quarterback, Sena has to refrain from face palming as she spies the smug smirk playing at the edge of Hiruma's lips. Sena chuckles ruefully. "I suppose we did." She swings her legs slightly in her seat. "Since it's Friday…is the match tomorrow then?"

"Yep," Yost answers, causing Sena to relax slightly. At least she has some time to mentally prepare herself. "Until then, it's best to rest up so you can get ready."

Foster steps up, smiling kindly at them. "If you'd like, we can give you a formal tour of our football history and whatnot; even show you how a Home Game usually looks like when we're in season."

Kurita immediately jumps out of his seat, a wide smile on his face as he nods furiously. "Yes! Absolutely please!"

"Heh. A chance to nick valuable playbooks has finally arrived~"

Sena whips her head around to stare at the grinning quarterback. "H-hiruma-san?"

Thankfully, Hiruma said that in Japanese so only the Bats understood as they give the scheming blond a wide berth. Sena smiles nervously at the confused coaches, bowing slightly in her seat. "Uh…we'll be in your care."

After changing into fresh clothes, Sena joins everyone on a tour for everything football. It's everything she expects and more. First, they visit the well maintained Guglielmino Complex that houses the football practice week locker rooms, coaches' offices and meeting rooms, all topped off with various memorabilia and awards won by former Notre Dame greats. After lunch, they head on to the Stadium Tunnel Tour; a tour that begins at the Knute Rockne Gate at the north tunnel of Notre Dame Stadium, across from the famed World of Life Mural painted at Hesburgh Library ; also known as Touchdown Jesus. It's a remarkable chance for them to experience the same fabled walk every Notre Dame player has taken for so many years that Sena hears Kurita bursting into sobs the moment he passes the tunnel entrance. Even Sena feels a bit overwhelmed at the rich history. Since it's spring, the pep rally in the evening afterwards isn't as packed compared to those when in season so after a quick dinner, they bid the coaches goodbye before returning to the inn to turn in for the night.

And then all too soon, morning comes.

Game Day.

Forgoing the player walk, Sena excuses herself from her team and runs to the locker room. Splashing some cold water on her face, Sena hopes it can maybe hide the fact that she's just thrown up in the toilets of Notre Dame stadium. The taste of sick is lingering in her mouth and her eyes are a bit red from tears of frustration at just how much the nerves are getting to her.

Hasn't she changed at all?

Turning off the tap, she glances up to see slitted green eyes staring right at her in the mirror.

"Hie?!"

Whipping around, it's only because of her quick reflexes that her hand snaps out to catch the item that Hiruma throws at her.

"Hiruma-san," she wheezes out, trying to catch her breath. It's been awhile since Hiruma catches her off guard. Early on in their acquaintance, she's learned that the quarterback has a tendency to scare people out of their wits by popping out of nowhere and has grown used to it by now. She must be more nervous than she thinks if she's failed to pick up on Hiruma's presence.

Sena looks down at the energy bar clutched in her hand then back up at Hiruma, some of her tension bleeding out from her. "Thank you," she mutters as her heart rate returns to normal.

Hiruma inclines his head at her then looks around the toilets, a slight wrinkle on his nose that causes Sena to snicker slightly.

"I know. The toilets at home are far more cleaner."

"That's because we're Japanese," Hiruma quips, fanged mouth curling in slight disdain as he gestures sharply out to the locker rooms. "We've always been anal about cleanliness."

Taking the hint, she follows Hiruma out of the toilets with a chuckle, her tone falling into a teasing note almost seamlessly. "That's a bit ironic coming from someone who doesn't pick up after himself back at the clubhouse."

"Shut up. It's called  _ordered chaos_ ," Hiruma scoffs. "Be grateful we're not in New York, fucking chibi."

Shaking her head with a smile, she drops onto a bench, unwrapping the bar and taking a grateful bite.

"Thank you for all of this. Especially when I know you'd prefer stealing the title—"

"Initially."

Sena blinks as she swallows her mouthful. "What?"

"I've run the numbers. The percentage for a takeover of the title is far higher compared to stealing it." Hiruma shrugs as he leans back against the lockers. "You're a recently graduated middle schooler playing against an NCAA team. Once that gets out, it'll give you and by proxy, the team, one hell of an reputation that will no doubt spread like a damn wildfire."

Sena relaxes at that. "So I'm not wasting anyone's time?"

Hiruma snorts, arching a brow. "Still worried about that?"

"I don't want to be careless with the first friends I've made in a long time."

"Careless?" Hiruma echoes, tilting his head to the side.

There's a certain shade in the quarterback's eyes that gives Sena pause, encouraging her to choose her words with care; she hums thoughtfully. "Yes. I've read somewhere that when we're careless with people, we'd risk ruining ourselves and those around us. I don't want that." She tugs at her bangs. "And being selfish can mean being careless."

For a while, Hiruma is quiet. Sena wonders at Hiruma's interest with her words, wonders if it has anything to do with that day in the river; with the inrō that's currently in her possession. Finishing the bar, she crumples it and throws it to the nearest bin, feeling disgruntled when she sees that it's veering off course.

Hiruma shoots it mid flight, changing back its course so it lands neatly in the trash.

Sena pouts.

Hiruma gives her a smug smirk, resting his rifle on his shoulder. "Then let me tell you how to rectify it."

"Does it involve explosives? Because I don't think that's a good idea what with us being so near to the toilets."

"And risk swimming in shit? Hell no."

"Oh, thank goodness."

"It's a different story once we're far away from the scene while somebody else be the target, though," Hiruma muses with a plotting smirk.

Sena groans. "Hiruma-san..."

"Justify it."

Sena straightens at the focused way Hiruma is looking at her. Many others would have gotten whiplash by now from the way Hiruma likes to jump from one subject to another in a split second but since Sena spends the majority of her time with Hiruma and that she's more or less the same in that aspect, she just finds it well, normal.

Sena frowns. "How am I to justify for being selfish?"

"By winning."

Sena feels herself sweat. "That's...not an answer for everything."

Hiruma shrugs. "It is, in this case."

"...Noted." Sena smiles up at the quarterback. "Thank you."

Scoffing, Hiruma pushes himself away from the lockers. "Fucking chibi."

"...Yes?"

"Go out there and raise hell."

Sena frowns, perplexed. "You're not gonna tell me to kill them?"

"That's exclusive for us Devil Bats, " Hiruma cackles. "Temporary team up or no, we shouldn't let other teams steal our M.O, fucking chibi."

Sena bites back a smile before standing up from her seat, turning serious. She nods to the blond. "Understood. May I assume those are to be your orders?"

Hiruma passes her as he makes his way to the exit. Stopping at the doorway, Hiruma looks over his shoulder with a bloodthirsty grin. "Damn right."

Sena grins back, nervous and excited in equal measures. "Then it'll be as you command, Captain."

She watches as Hiruma leaves with a cackle that echoes within the locker room and really, what should have been a terrifying sound, she instead finds it calming; soothing her nerves somewhat. Taking a calming breath, she gets into the gear that's been prepared for her. Once done, she walks out of the locker room, hands shaking slightly with nerves and a grin playing on the edge of her lips. She finds her team save for Hiruma, waiting for her at the field's entrance, gratefully accepting their hugs. When they let go, she bows deeply to them before turning to the entrance and takes a deep breath.

Sena marches out on to the field.

When she joins the assembled Irish, she notices a few of them looking at her with confusion and skepticism, that while her face is mostly hidden from the helmet on her head, her stature is not. Compared to the tall and beefy frames of these collage boys, Sena is very much standing out of place and everyone knows it. Gulping, she bows respectfully to the players and Yost, who's watching with interest. With forty minutes before kickoff, she joins the Irish for the pre-game warm-up on the field. All too soon, the commentator's voice floats over, announcing her to the crowd.

"Today we have quite a treat for you, folks! A challenger has arrived and you know what that means, don't you?"

A loud murmur sweeps across the crowd.

"That's right, folks! It's the Rule of 21!"

Sena looks around to see the incredulous disbelief of the crowd, their reactions quite obviously showing their doubt for the petite player that's so painfully dwarfed by all the rest. Sena wonders what sort of reaction she would get if everyone knows her age and gender, especially if this is the response she gets for her lack of height.

Looks like she's getting a taste of those absurdities now.

"For those unfamiliar to this amazing tradition of ours, there's an infamous title specially for runners. Challengers who wants to have a shot at it need to be on this field, fighting alongside with the Irish for twenty-one minutes. While it's not exactly required, the challenger is very much encouraged to score at least one touchdown against our opponents. But make no mistake, to stay on this field is no easy feat even in a usual match. The challenger here is gonna be the main target to the opposing team, with only minimum help from us, which, sorry kiddo. If you wanna win this, you gotta be fast enough to do it."

Okay, so she's pretty much like a sitting duck. The nervous grin edges into something a little more impish. Absurdities at its best then. She bows to the team and turning in place, she does the same to the whispering crowd.

This might actually be fun.

Going over to get into the huddle with the offence. She listens carefully to the Fighting Irish's quarterback going over the play. Once everything is set, they break the huddle. Lining up, the quarterback, who introduced himself as Carson, glances back at her.

"Dunno what you're capable of kid, but good luck. Try not to walk out with too many broken bones."

Laughing nervously, she feels her grin widening. "I'll do my best not to. Hard to win with broken bones, after all."

Carson snorts. "Good attitude. Let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is, rugrat."

Sena nods.

"Hut!"

The ball is snapped and she runs. She finds two defenders right in front of her. Heart racing at the sheer size of them, she steels her nerves and jukes to the left and one of those defenders zoom right past her. The other one is still coming though. She halts her movements and spins to the right, confusing the other defender enough to give her a chance to run ahead of him. She uses her speed to keep her distance. Not once does she look back for fear of wasting precious seconds or finding that the defense is right on her tail. She keeps on running until a stray linebacker tackles her to the side; not before she gains thirty yardage though.

Dusting herself off, she turns around to find both teams staring at her in disbelief. That feels good. When she sees Carson approaching, she points to the down.

"Was that alright?"

Carson barks out a laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove. "Damn right it was. And those bones?"

"Surprisingly, still intact."

"Good. Then lets show them what you got, rugrat."

"My senior made it clear to me that I'm to raise hell though."

"Rugrat, with that run, I can guarantee that you will."

Getting into the huddle, she listens as Carson tells her that they'll start off with a running play. She nods her understanding and they get into formation. As Carson gets ready, Sena takes the chance to scan the defense now that her nerves are a little more settled. While a number of them are smaller than the soldiers back at home, Sena can see that what they lack in terms of physique, they make it up by having more match experience; not surprising since they're apart of the NCAA division. Despite that, she will hold firm. Taking a breath, she hears Carson utter the snap count.

"Hut!"

In an instant Carson hands her the ball. She darts to the left where the offensive line has managed to hold back the defenders. She goes to the outside, by passing the line of scrimmage and literally painting a target on her back. With the opposing team focusing on her and being more wary of her run, Sena is hard pressed to dodge the onslaught. However, she hasn't been training against the soldiers and going up against the most terrifying quarterback in existence on a daily basis for nothing so Sena grits her teeth and runs, gaining twenty yards before getting tackled by one of the cornerbacks that she fails to shake off.

"Hie!"

Blowing an annoyed breath, she quickly gets back up and they set up another running play. Sena admits that though Carson is a remarkable quarterback, she's more used to Hiruma's crazy and unpredictable strategies. Regardless, when she's handed the ball, she takes heed of the play and runs to the left again, but instead of going outside, the line opens a hole for her to get through. Diving, she doesn't get as far as she did initially, but she's able to get enough yardage to get another down for the Irish.

Forty yards until they can score. So far, so good.

On the third play they continue to keep to the ground. Sena gains five yards, aggravating the opposing team especially considering her circumstances. They blitz the following play, fully expecting Carson to hand her the ball once more. That decision costs the Huskies dearly as it leaves a receiver wide open for a long pass that moves the Irish down to earn their first touchdown of the game.

"Touchdown!"

"Catch MAX!" Sena hears Monta screeching out from the stands, almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

Giggling, she watches as the Irish score an extra point conversion by kicking the ball through the uprights. Rotating her shoulders, she gets ready as both teams prepares for the kickoff. Thankfully the same receiver gets the ball. After that, the offense hits the field and starts with the Irish getting into a shotgun formation to give off the impression that they are going for a pass.

"Hut!"

Sena darts towards Carson immediately, who quickly places the ball in her hands and she swerves away from the defenders, thinking more about avoiding collisions as opposed to getting down the field. She has a really good run and is about to get out of bounds before she's caught off guard when a hand snatches the back of her jersey in a rough pull then, she finds herself tackled to the ground.

The defender who tackled her jumps to his feet and yells in her face. "Stay down, asswipe!"

Sena painfully gets to her feet, eyes set in a glare. It's not the first trash talk she's heard, heck, it's not even the worst. But still.

"Not before I drag you down first," Sena hesitates and then mentally apologizes as she switches back to Japanese. "Idiot!" Distantly, she thinks she hears a familiar cackle in the crowd. Before the defender can retaliate, she trots back to the awaiting team.

Carson meets her halfway, checking to see if she's okay. "You all right?"

"Yes," Sena nods, although her ribs are a bit sore especially with being the main target and all. Carson doesn't look too convinced, giving her a once over but decides not to argue. They're not all that far from the end zone; anything else can wait. Even so, these careful plays aren't doing them any good. It's even more so when the opposing team manage to tie the score not long after an interception from a failed pass.

Making a decision, Sena timidly taps Carson's arm. "Carson-san?" When the man looks at her, she coughs as she points downfield. "May I give a suggestion for the next play?"

"Gonna raise hell, rugrat?"

"If I may?"

Carson leans down. "Well, you've gotten us this far in such a short time, rugrat. Lets hear it then."

Some time after they regain the ball, the second touchdown of the game has Carson asan eligible receiver. It's a variant of a trick play that Hiruma once pulled in practice, one that involves confusing the Huskies by having one of the receivers taking over as quarterback while passing the ball to Carson who tore downfield and into the end zone. Sena is still surprised that they managed to pull it of; she hopes Hiruma doesn't mind her tweaking one of his trick plays. Before she can contemplate anything more than that, Carson hauls her into a one armed hug.

"One hell of a trick play, rugrat!"

Sena grins with a shrug. "It's something my senp— senior had done before. Uh, well, his version is far better since that was more of a variation. Not as insane as his."

"Don't care. I still like it!"

This time, the Irish opt to earn two extra points with a run play instead of a kick which they thankfully gain. Barely.

The next plays consists a mix of the Irish's careful strategies and Sena's Devil Bat tactics as they set up for a Hail Mary with Sena as a receiver on the outside.

"Hut!"

Sena sprints down the field, faster than any other player on the field, wide open and closing in on the end zone. Sena glances back and spies the other receivers being guarded a little too closely. None of them will be able to get the ball and that's when she sees it flying right at her. Reaching up, she feels the ball falling into her hands. Sena gets a glimpse of the rushing defenders before she whips away towards the end zone, running as fast as her legs can carry her, flying downfield as if she's a literal speed demon.

With the wind in her ears, Sena just keeps on running and running and  _running_.

"TOUCHDOWN!"

A dull roar echoes in her ears as a number of players nearby scream, running towards her with wild, awed happy looks on their faces even as her shoulders heave, sweat plastering her bangs to her forehead underneath her helmet. The crowd is screaming incomprehensibly around her; the cheering squad are blowing their horns; the band's trumpets are raised toward the sky as the brass sound clearly rings down to the field.

And that's when Sena realizes that she is standing in the end zone within Notre Dame stadium; having scored her first ever touchdown in a collage football game. Sena glances at the scoreboard.

21-6, with the Fighting Irish in the lead.

"Player change!"

Dazedly, she watches as Yost grins toothily at her, motioning her back to the bench. Confused, she panics and assumes the worse; did she do something wrong? Has she blown it and got herself disqualified? But that doesn't explain why Yost looks so happy. The moment she's within range, Yost pulls her into a hearty hug with a pleased laugh, patting her back.

"Dammit, darlin'! That was amazing!"

"T-thank you, Yost-san. Um, if I did okay, may I ask why am I being pulled out?"

Yost pulls away and smiles down at her. "You did more than okay, darlin'. I'm pulling you out because it's been twenty-one minutes, Miss Kobayakawa."

"…What?" Snapping around to look at the clock, she realizes that yes, her time is up.

She survived.

Bringing up a hand to her gaping mouth, she looks to the grinning Yost and seeks out her friends. She finds them jumping and cheering in the front row stands, then her eyes land on Hiruma and he looks— Sena blinks in disbelief. Hiruma looks openly proud, the green of his eyes, bright and fierce even at this distance; smirking like he already knew that Sena would succeed right from the start. Hiruma takes one look at her, rolls his eyes and nods once, firm and confident.

Sena cries.

That makes it even more real because Hiruma never bluffs or lies when it comes to victory. And this— with her friends in the crowd, standing in a packed stadium, full of cheering football fans and players alike; Sena feels alive and free.

This, is victory.

 

* * *

 

"Thank you so much, Yost-san!" Bowing for the umpteenth time, her head is caught mid bow by a familiar hand and an even familiar cackle.

"You're gonna dislodge your brain if you keep doing that, fucking chibi."

"But...!"

"I should be thanking  _you_ , darlin'," interjects Yost with a chuckle. "You really wowed the crowd back there with that run of yours."

Sena ducks her head, blushing as Monta and Komusubi nudge her sides. "Thank you."

Suddenly, Yost turns serious. "Now, for the verdict."

A hush falls upon them. Gulping, she watches as DeSantos and Foster step forward to stand beside Yost. They too, look serious. Sena isn't sure if it's nerves or if the three coaches are really taking their time as they huddle, talking in quiet, even tones but for Sena, it feels like an eternity has passed before they separate.

A hand presses fleetingly on the small of her back, before it disappears. Sena doesn't need to turn around to know who those long fingers belong to. Sena takes a breath, straightens her back and holds her head high.

 _'Forward,'_  Sena reminds herself.

The coaches stare at her for a beat longer before they grin, taking years off of their faces.

"You passed."

Sena isn't sure who said that before she's suddenly swept into a group hug, Komusubi and Monta hugging her sides as Kurita wraps his big arms around, holding them close to his chest. She peeks over to Hiruma and for a brief moment Sena thinks she sees a genuine smile playing on his lips.

It's breathtaking.

That or it could be her lungs complaining from the lack of air as Kurita cries and hugs them tighter.

"Kurita-san..." Sena gasps out.

"Can't MAX...breathe!"

"F-fugo!"

A shot rings out.

"Don't kill the brats, fucking porker! We need them alive!"

Kurita blinks, sniffling as he looks down. Sena isn't sure how they look but she thinks that their souls are probably floating out of their mouths right now. Hers certainly is. "Ah!" Kurita gently places them back down, looking sheepish. "Sorry! It's just...I'm so happy!" Kurita continues his sobbing but thankfully doesn't try to crush them again.

When she looks at the coaches, they appear to be amused and a bit disturbed, which is most likely because of the gun in Hiruma's hand.

"Calm down, kids. We still need to prepare Miss Kobayakawa for her first trial next month," Foster informs them over their excitement which, pretty much freezes them in their tracks all together.

"…Next month?" Sena questions, brows furrowing and exchanging confused looks with her teammates before tensing when there's an ominous click of a gun as Hiruma steps forward.

"The first of the trials are done at least a day or two after the challenger passed the initiation." Hiruma's tone has that threatening lilt in his voice; his smirk, razor sharp.

The coaches wisely take a step back, looking uncomfortable and guilty. DeSantos is the one who eventually speaks up. "Normally yes but things have changed after the last one, the current Eyeshield, got expelled two years ago. Because of that, his name isn't known to the public and it takes time to get things arranged and approval from the alumni that...orchestrated his expulsion."

"DeSantos," Yost warns.

"Wait!" Sena steps forward. "Eyeshield-san was expelled? Why?"

"I'm sorry darlin' but we're not allowed to talk about what happened."

Sena feels guilt creeping in. Did she wasted everyone's time as she feared? "Coach Yost, with all due respect, we came all this way to challenge him. How am I to do that if I don't know what happened to him or where to find him?"

Yost stares at her for a long moment before sighing when she doesn't waver her gaze. "Eyeshield had charges under his name and because of that he was expelled."

DeSantos scowls. "You know damn well that's a load of bull, Yost. The kid was framed and you know it."

 _'Framed?'_  Still shocked, she mulls over that piece of information. A sudden chime however, has Sena glancing at a corner of the office where Foster pulls out a phone from his pocket and feeling a knot of unease at the displeased look on the defence coordinators' face. A shift at her side shows her that Hiruma notices it too.

They both share a glance, frowning.

"Look," Yost sighs, hands on his hips. "Whether or not he was framed, it doesn't change the fact that he was expelled. In fact, the only thing we do know for sure is that he's somewhere in Japan and sendin' back all the previous challengers that Mr. Don approved of cryin' with their tail between their legs. It's, pardon my french, fucked up but as it is, all we can do is wait for Mr. Don's approval to lift the ban."

"Ban?" Sena asks with a frown. "What sort of ban?"

"Unlike in the past, there's a rule now that it's not enough anymore to have the football managements' approval for the challenge. Out of everyone, we need Mr. Don's explicit approval most of all." Foster sits heavily down on a chair with a sigh. "Which we don't."

They snap their heads to stare at Foster as Yost folds his arms. "The hell are you talking about?"

Foster raises up a phone. "I just got a message. Mr. Don refused to give Miss Kobayakawa his approval."

"What?" DeSantos gestures to Sena. "Why the hell not? She passed the Rule of 21! Hell, was he even watching? You did inform him, right?"

"Of course, I did!" Foster grumbles. "We're obliged to inform Mr. Don about any new challengers and their basic profile, after all; and that is the whole problem. He didn't even bother to watch once he read Miss Kobayakawa's profile."

Sena clenches her hands. "What do you mean?"

"It's because you're Japanese, Miss Kobayakawa," Foster mutters, glaring at his phone which is kinda what Sena and her team are pretty much doing as well. Foster raises his head to grimace apologetically at her. "And because you're also a girl."

"The hell?" Yost grumbles, taking off his hat. "I'm not surprised about the closed mindedness of not believin' girls can play the game, but bein' denied because she's Japanese? Eyeshield was Japanese!"

"Exactly," Foster sighs. "Mr. Don says he refuses to have the name of the Top be tainted by what he calls 'a powerless race' again."

"What that?!" Monta screeches, a hand reaching for the phone. Kurita quickly grabs the flailing teen as he screams in broken English. "He stupid! He very wrong! We not powerless! Sena strong! Deserves to fight!"

"Fugo!"

DeSantos raises his hands. "We know, Mr. Raimon, Mr. Komusubi. Believe us. We know very well how much of a racist and well, sexist Mr. Don is. Too damn well."

They fall into a tense silence as anger boils in Sena's gut. Was stealing the title the better option after all if this is the opposition she's going to face?

No.

No, she made a decision and she's sticking with it. She can't afford to second guess everything like she's been doing all these years. She just needs to justify this somehow.

'Still, how am I going to face Eyeshield-san if almost everyone doesn't know where he is exactly?' Sena frowns, cupping her neck. 'What do I need to do if even winning isn't enough?'

Sena turns to lock eyes with Hiruma and for a moment, she feels something passes between them. Like...an epiphany.

They both nod.

"Mr. Don, huh? Quite an influence that alumni has." Hiruma breaks the silence with a tilt of his head at the coaches, eyes taking on a calculative shade with a smirk that is a little too savage. "Who exactly is he?"

The coaches notice the sudden change in the air, glancing nervously at each other before Yost sighs. "...Donald Oberman."

While she finds the name unfamiliar, it seems that it's not the case with Hiruma because the quarterback has that particular look when he's found something and wants to exploit it as much as possible with the highest results. A slow, deranged grin stretch across that fanged mouth as Hiruma cackles. "Now  _that_ , is fucking interesting."

  


	2. Stake the Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heist. A revelation. Also, boot camp! 
> 
> Wait...what?

 

* * *

  **STAKE THE CLAIM**

* * *

 

 

"Touchdown!"

After the tense meeting in the office, they eventually decide to continue any further planning once tempers have cooled. To do that, Ryōkan suggests that they return to the stadium to watch the rest of the match to lift their spirits; even participating in the victory clog with the Irish Guard after getting permission from the apologetic Yost. The experience is something that Ryōkan will never forget that's for sure! He even got photos so he can show everyone back home too! Ah~ happy day! It's a pity that they couldn't wear the Guard uniforms too because those kilts are pretty cool. Next time maybe.

At least he and the others get to wear the hats!

Soon after the match, they immediately set their game plan and split up into two groups, one team heading off to Hesburgh Library while the other goes to the Administration in hopes of finding a way to overturn the ban. And to do that, they need to find the expelled Eyeshield 21.

Sadly, not two hours later, they only got the bare basics and even then, it's about Oberman; a fact that Ryōkan sees both intrigues and frustrates Hiruma. It seems like the security was upgraded to the highest degree recently and Hiruma doesn't have all the pieces yet to get what they need.

Ryōkan isn't worried though, knowing without a doubt that his best friend is more than capable to get whatever he sets his mind to. The security of Notre Dame will be no match for Hiruma especially when the quarterback has that familiar glint in his eyes, showing that he already has something planned. But since they still have a lot of free time, Ryōkan decides that it's best that they take a break from the unfortunately bigoted alumni and have some fun. Since they're in the esteemed Notre Dame, Ryōkan thinks it's about time they continue their tour, so, with that in mind, he literally carries his teammates to the nearest shuttle that will take them around the campus.

The campus of Notre Dame spans for many, many acres, and has hundreds of buildings, including the affiliated schools, from elementary to high school! While Ryōkan only visited two campuses before, he admits that Notre Dame's campus is among the most beautiful campuses he's ever seen. It's not long before his team get their enthusiasm back which he's really glad because he hates seeing his friends disheartened.

As a center, he needs to protect his team even outside of the field.

Ryōkan can understand why the campus attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors. He takes delight in the landscape of fresh colors, the ivy-covered walls on Gothic buildings, the quadrangles and some of the most recognized campus landmarks – the Golden Dome, Touchdown Jesus, the Grotto of our Lady of Lourdes and the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. It's a campus of beauty and spirit. It's no surprise that it houses one of the greatest beginnings of football! Ah, so exciting!

The center of campus is Main Quad or what it's more commonly called, God Quad, which has the Main Building and the Basilica, and other important buildings and residence halls. Apart from Main Quad, there are six quadrangles: North Quad, Mod Quad, West Quad, South Quad, Bond Quad and DeBartolo Quad, all of which Ryōkan insists that they take the time to visit. Also, the campus is home to two cemeteries, one reserved for members of the Congregation of Holy Cross while the other one is open to the general public which Hiruma takes a liking in scaring the wits out of people there.

The best part in Ryōkan's opinion though (besides the football of course), is all the new food! Since it's Saturday, there's still all sorts of food going around because of game day. It's pretty much the main reason why he drags his friends to all the quads since they have different foods for each one and it's so delicious~!

Even the squirrels think so!

Since they were more focused on the football stuff of Notre Dame yesterday, Ryōkan is determined to make sure they enjoy all the other things the campus has to offer, from buying souvenirs unique to Notre Dame to visiting the colleges and departments. Ooooh, maybe this can be one of his university choices one day! He's especially happy about the Department of Athletics and Center for Culinary that's for sure.

It also gives Ryōkan the chance to know more about his friends' likes and dislikes too. Komusubi shows a pretty strong interest in the accountancy department while Monta still tends to stray to the baseball teams. Sena, he finds, loves all things art which makes wondering around the beautiful campus quite a treat for his petite teammate. They pretty much lost Hiruma to the College of Engineering and the College of Science for almost two hours, though. He's glad that his brother is letting himself enjoy the trip too, what with having his hands full with the team and trying to find his dad and all; Hiruma deserves the rest. Though for some reason after he returns, Hiruma immediately drags Sena to the College of Arts and Letters. For what? He's not all that sure. But it seems like it's something both his friends have in common outside of football.

By the time the backs return, they go back to the stadium and immerse themselves again to football history. Ryōkan especially loves the history behind the seven mules of 1924, led by the strong and awesome center, Adam Walsh himself! Truly, he has a long way to go before he can consider himself a good center! With that in mind, he takes special care to write down and gather everything he can about the All-American center in hopes of getting an inspiration or ways to improve himself by learning from his techniques and history.

As a center, he also needs to be smart and diligent!

In the evening before dinner, Ryōkan finds himself lying in the middle of the stadium field while looking up to the darkening sky, wondering how they're going to solve the whole Mr. Don problem. Around him, he can faintly hear his teammates as they chat with some of the Irish. The sound of footsteps cause Ryōkan to sit up which allows him to see Hiruma approaching him, deep in thought with a glint of excitement shining in his eyes. Looks like Ryōkan doesn't have to wonder anymore.

"Hiruma?"

Eyes flickering up to him, his best friend gives him an impish grin, making him look more like a teenager than the infamous blackmailer. "I know what to do." The quarterback nods behind him, at the mural of Touchdown Jesus. "We're breaking in there."

Ryōkan frowns, confused. "But we already checked the library."

Hiruma smirks. "But not the restricted archives."

Ryōkan looks at the tall building behind him, chin cradle in his hand. "Are we gonna go there now?"

"No." Hiruma leans down to sit on Ryōkan's shoulders. "We'll go there at midnight."

"There's only two of us though. Will we be okay?"

"Did you forgot to count or something? It's five. Six, if we include Cerberus."

"Eh?" He twists his head up to give Hiruma an incredulous look. "Our kōhai too?"

Hiruma shrugs. "Why not? It'll be fun."

Ryōkan sweatdrops as he huffs out a laugh. "You're probably the only one here that thinks breaking and entering is something fun, Hicchan."

Hiruma scrunches his nose. "I keep telling you to fucking stop calling me that."

"Fine, fine." Ryōkan pretends to think before exclaiming with a Devil Bat grin. "Hikkun, then!"

"Oi, oi." Even though Hiruma clicks his tongue, he doesn't dissuade Ryōkan from the name either. Hiruma smirks. "Just Hiru or Yōichi, you idiot."

Content, he sways slightly. "Kay~!"

"I might not be the only one," Hiruma says after a comfortable silence, a hint of wonder in his voice that Ryōkan barely catches.

"Hm?"

"I wasn't the only one who thought about breaking into the archives."

Ryōkan blinks and stares at his friend, a grin tugging on his lips in seeing the barely contained glee in Hiruma's eyes. Ah, it's a short list of people on who can put that look in the quarterback's usually controlled expression. "Sena-chan is actually quite daring isn't she, Hiru?"

Hiruma arches a brow at him. "Perhaps." The blond tilts hit head. "She's joining me."

"Hmmm." Ryōkan nods absently before starting in shock when his brother's words catch up to him. "Sena-chan?! She's gonna go in with you?!"

Hiruma chuckles. "Yeah. Thing is, she approached me first. Damn well asked me straight out if she can join me in whatever I'm planning to do. In keigo." The blond grins at him, looking both devilish and boyish. "Who the hell asks in fucking  _keigo_  to participate in breaking into a high grade secured facility, Kurita?"

Ryōkan gapes a bit before finding his voice. "Sena-chan apparently." He scratches his head. "So she really is joining you?"

Hiruma nods.

At least his friend won't be alone. He and Musashi tend to worry about Hiruma acting on potential risky schemes alone. If it's Sena though, he thinks that it'll be okay. He's really surprised at the fact that Sena is the one who wants to join instead of Hiruma dragging the running back into it though.

"Did she tell you why?"

A green bubble pops with a snap. "Said that it's the least she could do since she doesn't want to go back home empty handed. Or leave the fucking stupid ban as it is."

"That ban is quite ridiculous," Ryōkan agrees as he looks up at the mural contemplatively before giving a slow nod. "Alright. Just...take care of each other in there."

Hiruma hums noncommentively but Ryōkan knows his friend enough that it's good as a confirmation as he can get.

Ryōkan slaps his knees, beaming up at Hiruma. "I'll get the getaway car ready then."

Hiruma laughs out loud. It's moments like these that Ryōkan treasures, when Hiruma doesn't just let only one part of himself show. Moments when his friend can be himself without being pigeonholed by others. Hiruma gives him a half smile. "Much obliged, Kuri."

Ryōkan laughs. "Anytime, Hiru." He jumps to his feet with an excited cry, fire burning his eyes. "Yosh! Let's go and ask the others!"

Hiruma shakes his head. "Kobayakawa is already handling that. All that's left is the planning."

"Really?" When the quarterback nods, Ryōkan wrings his hands in worry. "Do you think they're willing to join?"

Hiruma scoffs. "Those two aren't gonna leave fucking chibi to do shit alone. Plus that apprentice of yours will no doubt want to be apart of the plan if it means helping out his master."

"We are talking about breaking and entering here, Hiru."

"We're the Devil Bats, we make trouble and break the rules." Hiruma smirks maniacally. "Or in this case, rewrite them."

"Musashi is gonna kill us when he hears about this." No doubt Musashi is gonna sit them down with a lecture when they get home.

"He's the eldest, what do you expect he's gonna do?" Hiruma sighs because they both know that Musashi has always been the most responsible out the three of them. "Let's worry about that crap later." Hiruma nods at the mural with a cackle. "We have a heist to plan after all."

Ryōkan nods, throwing his fists in the air. "FUNNURABA!"

* * *

 

There's only one window in the room, and Yōichi ducks under a passing camera with ease so that he can peek outside. Sidling up against the window ledge, hands spread out flat across it to support his weight, he leans to press his face to the glass, scanning the perimeter below. He feels the air shift behind him before he's suddenly back-to-back with Kobayakawa as she keeps an eye out.

They're both decked out in full stealth gear courtesy of the soldiers back home; night vision goggles over their hoodies, hiding their faces from view. It's the first time that someone else is (willingly and actively) participating in his more risky schemes. His brothers can't really keep up with him for inside work, would usually wait outside to keep a look out while making sure to prepare the getaway car. This, is different. Because since the moment they've snuck inside, Kobayakawa has matched him move to move. He never makes it a secret whenever he's up to something but he's never had anyone coming up to him and offering to actually participate even before he's even done finishing on planning his latest scheme. Yōichi thinks he might've finally found someone who actually can and want to play with him.

"Um," the running back whispers. "I forgot to ask but why is your skills isn't enough for this, Hiruma-san?"

"Because it got tricked up, fucking chibi. If it were two or three years ago, the visitor computers would've been enough." He creeps to a stairwell as Kobayakawa follows suit. "Fucking egoist is the son of a senator, who's also a strong candidate for presidency and the bastard sure as hell took advantage of that fact. Since the libraries are closed on Saturdays, the security will be more…lenient."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Kobayakawa frowns. "I don't understand why he would go this far to hide, no, erase Eyeshield-san's existence. It doesn't make any sense."

"Racism rarely ever does, fucking chibi." He takes the stairs to the top floor, quickly and carefully, feet leaving the ground for the occasional parkour to minimize the distance. He'd have them taken the elevator, but he'd noticed, when they first got here, that there are cameras and logs in the elevators and reactivating them at this hour will only create more work and cut out their already limited time. The stairwells on the other hand, don't have that problem. It's better to take advantage of that, and ascend the six flights to their destination without being seen by anyone who might be curious about two teenagers wandering around late at night. Between his skills and Kobayakawa's, they arrive in no time.

Kobayakawa is silent beside him as they kneel in front of the door to the Main Information Centre of the Archives. The locks are a smattering of digitals and manuals. Decoding the electronic locks is mere child's play but the manual ones will take a bit of time. While he's not adverse to clandestine work, most of the time he prefers to just shoot the damn things. Or blast the door right out of its hinges.

"All of this just because Eyeshield-san was Japanese?"

Yōichi snorts as he pries open the outer part of the lock and extracts the module. "Remember those absurdities you mentioned? This is one of them. Hell, that fucking egoist actually ordered everyone in the know to not let word out about that little fact."

Kobayakawa purses her lips. "So what if he is Japanese? He's still a one of a kind runner."

"Exactly." Yōichi eyes the neatly placed connector. "You'll meet even more absurdities when word gets out to the officials that you're a girl." After studying how the external and internal parts of the lock interact, he pulls out his hacking phone and connects it to the aforementioned connector to brute-force the code.

Kobayakawa looks troubled as she contemplates this for a while before nodding nervously. "Looks like I'm gonna have a lot of fun fighting them and proving them wrong."

"You're a Devil Bat, Kobayakawa," Yōichi cackles, throwing a surprised Kobayakawa a bloodthirsty smirk. "You don't fight 'em. You fucking kill 'em."

"Yeah," Kobayakawa agrees with a grin, slow and sure. A quiet beep turns their attention back to the lock as the system reboots and resets the failed-attempts counter. He goes through the PIN combinations and confirms the digits, unlocking it. Now that just leaves the manual locks.

Dammit, why can't it all just be electronics. It'll save time.

Yōichi pulls out his lock pick set from his back pocket and carefully selects a pick and tension wrench, inserting them into the key-way and get to work. There's three of them, elaborate and complicated which is a fucking overkill. But it shows that they're in the right place. He's finished with first one when Kobayakawa unexpectedly grasps his wrist.

Glancing at the girl, he notes the determined set of her jaw. Kobayakawa nods at the remaining locks. "May I?"

Yōichi arches a brow but shifts back so Kobayakawa can settle between his legs. He hooks his chin to the brunette's shoulder as she takes out her house keys, then chooses the dangling bamboo tassel keychain. Looking closely, he sees Kobayakawa carefully uncurls the ends, spying the edges that looks distinctively like a lock pick set.

Yōichi hums. "This wasn't in your files." Insufficient data is frustrating but he doesn't mind so much in figuring things out the old-fashioned way with Kobayakawa. It's more interesting.

Kobayakawa coughs, hunching slightly. "My bullies locked me inside a PE storage room back in elementary school as revenge, once. Since it was getting late, there wasn't a lot of people around so…"

Yōichi hears as a lock clicks open.

Shit. That's half the time that he needs.

The running back extracts herself from him to stand, focusing on the last lock. "I broke a few reeds from a broom handle and well, it took me more than an hour to figure it out. As to why it wasn't in my files, it's probably because I never told anyone since I didn't want to make things worse." Yōichi rises to lean against the wall besides the door, hearing as Kobayakawa's voice waver in pain from the memory. "I only told Kaa-san and Tou-san just recently since everything kinda spilled out when I was telling them about what was happening with Oda-san. And Mamori-neechan…" Kobayakawa trails off with a grimace, a hint of bitterness in her voice. The last lock opens with a satisfying click but Yōichi ignores it.

Because there's a roar in his ears as he connects the dots. "She's the fucking reason why you got locked in the first place."

"It wasn't her fault," Kobayakawa immediately snaps, then takes a shuddering breath before throwing him an apologetic glance. "Mamori-neechan really did mean well. While it's true it became a bit of a mess after getting the teachers and the parents involved, the bullies left me alone soon enough." The younger teen sighs. "So did everyone else, unfortunately, since they didn't want to be around the pitiful, bullied kid that could get them in trouble just by association."

Yōichi tilts his head, scrutinizing Kobayakawa and infers what was left unsaid. "You begged the fucking committee not to say anything but she did it anyway. Most likely told you that she knew best and steamrolled ahead. Even now, she doesn't know what sort of shit she left behind." There's a smirk on his lips as he says this with a lofty tone, stance deceptively relaxed.

And yet, one look and Kobayakawa somehow just knows as she reaches out to place a gentle hand on his wrist; her voice a soft, calming cadence. "I wasn't hurt and Mamori-neechan really didn't know that was going to happen. Besides," Kobayakawa gestures to the door with an abashed grin, "at least I learned something. Pretty much looked up everything I could about this so I won't be caught in that position again."

Not the fucking point. Kobayakawa may not have been hurt physically but a brat trapped alone for that long? Physical injury would've been preferable.

Yōichi pushes open the door, dropping the matter for now. "What was different this time? You still got called in."

Kobayakawa carefully closes the door and trots after him, glancing nervously around the room. No need. He already layered up the security feeds when he was working on the electronic lock. "Yes, but at least it was because of my own choices. It turned well, all things considered. Although, besides them being a source of income for the team, for you to go after the Oda family didn't make much sense."

Shrugging, Yōichi takes out his laptop. "You did what you set out to do and fucking kill the fucking bitch-brat. But since she and her parents were about to complicate shit by dragging it along and waste our time, I stepped in."

"They were about to sue the school weren't they?" Kobayakawa asks rhetorically. "Would they've succeeded given the evidence we had?"

"Hell no. But you've seen what that fucktard family was like; fucking delusional idiots willing to waste their resources. They'd just create shitty drama that no one needs."

Kobayakawa sighs exasperatedly, mouth twisting in a guilty smile. "So instead of drama, there was chaos instead."

"Fucking glorious chaos," he agrees with a cackle as he inspects the room. It isn't a particularly large one, but the low thrum of power from the machines gives the air a strange buzz. It isn't brightly lit but something about it feels... comforting. Familiar. Yōichi has always been good at computers, since he was a brat and they became his chosen academic passion. In this room, they are lining some of the walls while others are filled with locked file cabinets. They're in the Main Control that's been tricked up by a fucking egoist abusing a senator's access and he's gonna take full advantage of it. It will be especially useful to him, what with finding a lead about his father not too long ago that looks suspiciously like American area codes.

He goes directly to the principal terminal and sits down on the chair, connects it to his laptop and sets out to work. Behind him, he listens to Kobayakawa flitting from one cabinet to another, unlocking them with laughable ease as she tries to find anything of use regarding the traditions and history behind Notre Dame's Eyeshield 21. He knows that Kobayakawa found something when he hears the occasional snap of a camera shutter.

He needs to work fast if he wants to have everything they need and get out in time. He types in the algorithms, sets it up and comprises the shit out of it, resetting the access code to his own while using the existing programs as a camouflage, ensuring that he has a backdoor access if he ever needs it.

Dammit...that's a lot of data.

Applying a parameter sieve, he makes sure to specify the information they need, cutting it down to a manageable 5% of data. He makes the final scan and gets his result.

Suddenly he sits bolt upright.

"Ya-ha!"

* * *

 

Sena knows that Hiruma succeeded when she hears the quarterback's semi-muted victory cry. Quickly replacing the lock to the last cabinet, Sena walks across to lean against the back of the chair to read over the quarterback's shoulder. The now familiar scent of gunmetal and wasabi gum waft to her nose and if she concentrates, she can pick up the underline scent of coffee and spice. It's calming. Sena rests her chin on Hiruma's shoulder, mimicking the other teen's previous actions.

She watches Hiruma's fingers pause their tapping on his laptop to bring up a picture of a good looking Japanese boy with wild black hair and warm hazel eyes, staring confidently at the camera. It's dated two years ago. Hiruma hums as he reads. "Takeru Yamato. Born in Kagoshima Prefecture on October 10th 1989. A former exchange student from Notre Dame Middle School. By spring, he'll be in Teikoku High, Ōsaka." A shift and Sena hears the chair creaking as Hiruma leans back.

"Fucking hell."

"Takeru Yamato...Yamato Takeru," Sena mumbles, mostly to herself. "Teikoku High." Then she thinks about that, runs through it again, and shock flashes through her body. Sena groans, hiding her face behind Hiruma's shoulder. "The Teikoku Alexanders."

"The fucking Western Empire," Hiruma confirms.

She huffs out a laugh. "The same team that had won every single game since the very first Christmas Bowl." Her phone vibrates in her belt, breaking Sena from her reverie. Pulling it out, she blinks when she sees the anonymous email. "Hiruma-san?"

"You wanted a gekokujō, fucking chibi," cackles Hiruma. "You damned well got it. I've sent everything you need or want to know about Yamato so you better make damn good use of it."

Sena gulps, pocketing her phone. "I will. Thank you, Hiruma-san."

"Hn."

There's a pause before the typing begins again. Only this time it's faster; frantic, clicking at ridiculous speeds. Sena watches as multiple windows open simultaneously, numbers flying across the pages; programs Sena has no hope of recognizing or understanding, ones that she suspects Hiruma has written himself. "What is it?"

"Hijacking the fucking egoist's access codes. If the bastard has that much influence to put Yamato's files under an airtight lid in so little time then he sure as hell will have the influence I need, being a senator's son and all that crap," Hiruma mutters.

Sena frowns. "Will that trip the alarm?" Then amends when she remembers who she's talking to. "Sorry. I meant, will it make it difficult for us to get out?"

"It cuts our time in half."

"Alright then." Sena crosses over to the door, opening it to carefully peek out into the dark hallways then, crouches beside it.

Hiruma tilts his head to her, seemingly surprised. "Hn?"

Sena recalls the look on Hiruma's face when Donald Oberman's was revealed, one that Sena has seen whenever Hiruma is in his self dubbed, 'shit-solving mode'. "It's important to you isn't it? Those codes." Sena takes a breath. "Is there a way I can help extend our time? Or make our escape easier?"

Hiruma chuckles after a beat. "You've been spending too much time with me, fucking chibi."

Sena smiles. "Should I stop?"

"Hell no." Another round of typing before the sound of a laptop snapping closed echoes behind her. Slowly, the lights in the room begins to dim as the array of computers shut down. A black device slides to her feet. "Run pass the yellow points that'll appear on the radar. It'll stall the time and gives us the extra seconds we need."

Sena snaps the device onto her wrist. "Got it."

"Parallel. 10-Chair, 5-Slant, 10-Curl, 15-Hook and lateral. On three."

Sena closes her eyes, memorizing the game plan and envisioning the routes. "Captain." Sena acknowledges, rolling her shoulders.

Hiruma treks forward silently to scan the dark hallway. "Set."

Sena adjusts her goggles, readying into a three-point stance.

"Hut." Hiruma snaps a gun into his right hand while his left is pressed to the side of his goggles.

Sena breathes in then presses a button at the side of her goggles, activating the HUD. She takes note of the clock counting down their remaining time while also showing the blinking yellow checkpoints on the radar display.

"Hut." Hiruma releases the safety on his gun, takes three steps out and into the hallway.

The door beeps and Sena breathes out.

"Hut!"

Sena explodes into a run.

Faintly hearing the door shutting closed, Sena follows through the routes and does as Hiruma instructed. On the HUD, she sees a number of rapidly blinking yellow dots slow down the moment she flies pass their locations. Each time she does, Sena sees on the timer that she's earned an extra five seconds before those yellow dots will turn red.

'Security,' she thinks as she takes the corner at full speed, sliding just a little on the tiled floor, and bolts through the door to the north stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, conscious of the limited time. She pauses for a moment on the landing at the seventh floor when she hears Hiruma catching up as he jumps and leaps on the other side of the stairwell to land in front of the access door. Her eyes takes in the small black device similar to hers on Hiruma's wrist as he waves it near the handle, unlocking it. They bound up the next flight together.

Mid leap on a railing to the stairwell a floor above them, Hiruma tilts his head down at her, a carefree grin playing on his lips. That's a first. "Do you trust me?"

Sena grins back, incredulous. "That depends. Do you trust  _me_?"

Hiruma laughs, impish and playful. "Looks like we'll find out soon enough."

Passing the thirteenth floor by, they pause for just a second to catch their breath then slip out of the stairwell into the penthouse by the fourteenth floor in what appears to be a recent Football exhibit room, filled with historic and valuable memorabilia of Notre Dame and spies the OBERMAN on the doorplate. They stop short just inside the door. Then there's a sound of several slides and clatters as doors and windows lock of their own accord. The security is reactivating and they're almost out of time.

Sena observes as Hiruma looks up to an opening in the windows above, then trails slowly over to an empty display case hanging near the center of the ceiling from a sturdy cable run through a pulley. His head darts down then, to the other pulley and lever, low on the wall within reach, then to Sena herself. Hiruma stills, mouth going slack for moment before a wicked grin appears.

_'Kami-sama, please let me get out of this alive,'_ Sena prays fervently, catching onto Hiruma's plan.

_ Do you trust me? _

'I think I already do if I'm actually considering doing this,' Sena thinks ruefully before nodding at Hiruma.

Hiruma smirks, raising his gun and fires. The gunshot is silent and sparks kick up around the winch above the case, loosening the contraption. Pocketing his gun, Hiruma turns his attention to the lever on the wall. The blond releases the safety lock on the pulley but holds tight to the lever, reeling it back to raise the case up as high as it would go while his other hand keeps the cable from winding around the wheel, creating a length of slack. Hiruma sets the lock again momentarily to hold the cable and wheel in place and coils the cable tightly around his left arm while the right is extends towards her. Gulping, she steps into Hiruma's hold, wrapping her arms around the quarterback's neck while Hiruma's arm curls around tight around her waist, causing their bodies to press flush together. Sena feels her face warming up in a blush. It's the first time that there's literally no space between them.

Hiruma grins down at her then nods at the winch. "Stop it before it hits the floor." He then taps a paracord by her belt. "Use this to get us out."

It's a testament of how much time they've spent around each other that Sena can actually understand what Hiruma wants. She can't even be surprised on how her brain immediately imagines up what needs to be done. "I've completely lost my mind," Sena mumbles then blinks when she feels how Hiruma's laughter vibrate in his chest. It's oddly comforting. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Keh. Sanity is overrated anyway, fucking chibi." Hiruma squeezes Sena's hip in warning as their time runs down to four minutes. "Set."

They share a grin.

"Hut!"

And Hiruma releases the lock.

With nothing stopping it, the weight of the large display case high above suddenly drops in a near free-fall, pulling its cable up through the pulleys, and them along with it. Sena swiftly wraps one hand around the cable as well when the jerking force of it startles her so that Hiruma doesn't have to carry both of their combined weights.

Suddenly there's a confusing whirl of movement, the dizzying feeling whenever the world spins so fast colors blur together as Hiruma twists them mid-flight, feet towards the pulley. Hitting it, they come to a stop. Quickly, she retightens the winch, stopping the case from crashing onto the floor and stopping their elevation. Sena laughs a little hysterically.

When Hiruma turns his head to her, Sena points to their feet on the pulley. "Upside down. We're Devil Bats and we're upside down, Hiruma-san."

Hiruma pauses then bursts out laughing. "Little shit. You really can play with me."

Sena's not sure what that's supposed to mean but she'll take it as a good thing if Hiruma is laughing like that.

When they're upright again, they grab onto a metal support beam closest to them and walk themselves a little farther up the wall until they can drag their bodies up on top of it. Sena watches as Hiruma makes sure their weight are fully supported by the beam, before carefully unwinding the cable from his arm and lets it fall slack in the pulley.

_'Still alive,'_  Sena thinks with a breathless laugh. _'Now then…'_

Unclasping the paracord, she carefully crawls the narrow space that barely fits her own small stature across the support beam, over to the wall of windows above the locked balcony doors. When she reaches the end, she knots one end of the paracord around the beam while tying the other into a loop large enough for two. Tucking her foot into the dangling loop, she swings slightly and reaches out to Hiruma, who grabs her hand and after some adjustments, they're standing securely on the makeshift foothold. They work together to lower themselves until they are level with an opening above the windows. They then carefully maneuver themselves and their lifeline through the opening, one hand each clinging to the paracord and the other to the edge of the opening before touching down on an eave.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sena looks to Hiruma who shoots the paracord tied to the beam, cutting it loose. The quarterback then rises to scan the area, one hand pressed to the side of his goggles. Taking a shuddering breath, Sena winds the paracord then stands to join the captain.

"We're only halfway downfield," Hiruma mutters. "North. 100 seconds. Hut!"

Sena's feet leave the ledge to slide down a roof with Hiruma doing the same beside her. Then they take off side by side to make their way up to the rooftops with Sena running precociously on top of the ridges while Hiruma parkour beside her. In the distance, Sena can hear the haunting chimes of the campus' bell tower.

One.

Her breath comes out in harsh pants and leaps across the few short feet separating rooftops.

Two.

Her skin prickles as the wind subtly shifts directions and Sena takes advantage of riding the air currents. She chances a glance at Hiruma, watches the way he leaps and vaults over things with lithe grace. He's breathtaking. As if feeling her eyes on him, Hiruma tilts his head to her, cackling wildly. Helpless, she joins in, giggling as the wind nips at her cheeks.

Three.

Seeing the ledge up front, they turn their heads to each other with a grin before jumping over the edge, shouting in unison.

"YA-HA!"

High up in inky blackness at three in the morning, on what the westerners call as the Devil's hour—

They fall.

Sena hears the wind roaring in her ears as they plunge down uncontrollably fast. Gripped with urgency, Sena twists slightly to reach out towards Hiruma who reaches in return, drawing close to her as they speed downwards. The tips of their fingers brush before their hands clasp tight. Hiruma grabs onto her in midair, rotating them and then, she's suddenly falling alongside Hiruma. The captain's carefree grin, however, still startles her (she wishes that his eyes are uncovered) as Hiruma keeps his face close to her own. The fear that permeates her veins from the fall noticeably wanes, and instead her hand reaches up, unbidden, to touch Hiruma's cheek. Warm skin greets her fingertips, and Hiruma's grin only widens as he tilts his head to press closer, closer before Sena's other hand grasps the back of Hiruma's head to close the distance between them, pressing their foreheads together.

_ I trust you. _

The two of them crash onto a pile of laundry bags and mattresses with a loud thump. Gasping, Sena is astonished to find that Hiruma is clutching her to him as hard as Sena is hugging the quarterback. Instinct, maybe; they did just thrown themselves into a free-fall.

"Catch MAX!"

"S-shishō!"

There's a sound of wheels caught in a whine and then they're sent tumbling to the back of what seems to be a truck from the inn.

"FUNNURABA!"

Lurching forward, Sena shoots a hand out to grab onto one the truck's guardrails while the other clutches Hiruma's sleeve. The two of them rise to watch the gates close behind them with a clang.

They did it.

Sena throws a fist in the air. "Touchdown!"

The rest of the Devil Bats echo her sentiment as the truck turn onto the main road. "TOUCHDOWN!"

"YA-HA!" Hiruma finishes their victory cry. The quarterback then slumps against her, manic and breathless. "Fuck-shit-sonuvabitch, Kobayakawa."

Sena laughs, thumping her head against the truck's tailgate. "Yeah." She takes off her goggles and hood then unties her hair from it's messy bun before retying it into her usual ponytail. She's surprised that it's even halfway decent with the way her hands are shaking. Sena nudges the captain. "Are you alright, Hiruma-san?"

"Hell yeah."

A pale hand tears off the goggles before it pulls the hood back, revealing Hiruma's face to her clearly for the first time since they begun the 'heist'. The lights on the sides of the road shine bright with an orange glow, throwing Hiruma's features in sharp contrast. Sena can see nearly every detail - the slight part of his lips before they stretch into a wide fanged grin, the fiery green of his eyes, the mess of blond hair that's tied back into a short, low ponytail instead of it's usual super saiyan style. It's another facet amongst the countless of others that is Hiruma Yōichi.

And he looks downright unapologetic of who he is; devious and brilliant and absolutely insane.

"What?" Hiruma unties his hair, ruffling and spiking it up so that it almost resembles his usual hairstyle.

Blinking, she smiles at Hiruma, soft and fond. "Just happy, I guess."

Hiruma cackles. "And we have every reason to be." He runs a hand through his bangs. "One hell of an adrenaline rush."

She hugs her knees to her chest. "I can't believe we're alive." Rocking herself, she points a shaking finger at Hiruma. "You're insane."

"Why thank you."

"Not a compliment." Sena then points to herself. "I'm probably even more so since I actually enjoyed it. I just helped you pull off a heist and threw myself over a fourteen story library and I'm here thinking, 'Wow, that was actually kinda fun!' and— why are you laughing?"

Sena blinks when Hiruma shifts close, voice still filled with laughter as he whispers in her ear. "Because you and I?" Hiruma pulls away enough for her to see the wild malachite glint within his emerald eyes. "We are gonna have so much fun together."

"Eh?"

Hiruma settles back against her, humming under his breath and looking almost happy. Sena wonders if she should be worried about that but well, as long as they're okay, Sena doesn't see any problems.

There's some rustling before Monta and Cerberus pop up above them, appearing concerned. "Everything okay? No one hurt?"

Checking herself over, Sena finds that yes, all of her limbs are still intact. Thankfully the gear and their soft landing ensured there'd be no broken bones or bruises. Other than being tired and sore, she seems to be alright.

Sena nods at Monta, giving her friend a shaky smile. "I'm okay, Monta. Thanks for the save."

Monta gives her a long look before giving a thumbs up. "That was MAX awesome." Then he looks nervously at Hiruma. "Hiruma-senpai?"

Hiruma waves a careless hand. "Tell the fucking porker that I'm fi— "

"Fine has variable meanings! You've always said so!" Kurita shouts back from the driver's seat. Sena puzzles on how the center can hear from that distance. Probably because the Maō duo have known each other for years now.

"I'm alright, dammit!"

"That's better!"

"Fuck off!"

She and Monta snicker at the seniors' bickering before Sena makes herself comfortable, pressed close to Hiruma and leaning back against the tailgate, shutting her eyes as the hum of the truck's engines drone on.

She dreams, strangely, of falling and flying down the field.

And soars.

* * *

 

After getting back to the inn, crashing for the next seven or so hours and a generous breakfast, Monta enters the inn's lobby to see Sena squinting at her phone, bottom lip between her teeth and a furrow on her brows. "You okay, Sena?"

Sena startles in her seat, looking around before the brunette's gaze falls on him. Blinking owlishly, Sena smiles sheepishly. "Hey Monta. Sorry, I didn't see you there."

He chuckles. "That's alright. You look like you're having some trouble though. You okay?"

Sena runs a hand through her bangs, sighing. "Just reviewing the information we got from the library."

"Oh? Wactha got?" He joins his friend by the sofa, jumping on it just to feel the cushiness. Sena giggles at him, swatting him lightly on the arm. He grins, happy to at least elevate some of the worry from his friend.

Sena passes her phone to him, showing an array of names and documents. "Well, I think we've established that Notre Dame has a history of traditions. Including having exchange programs with Teikoku, which kinda helps a lot since there's some updates about the Alexanders."

"How so?"

Sena shrugs. "Because there are exchange students from Notre Dame that will occasionally try out for the team back home. I'm just checking out what sort of opponents we're gonna have to face one day."

He scrolls down the names of potential players for the Alexanders in the upcoming school year. "Heh…so is there anyone from Notre Dame this year?"

Sena shakes her head. "Not in football, no."

"Aw. Thought you could have another MAX rival."

"I think I have my hands full with just the one. Besides, I still need to contact Yamato-kun about the whole arrangement of the challenge." Sena says this with none of the hesitation and second guessing that would've been the norm for the brunette not too long ago.

He's really glad to see his friend getting more confident about herself as an athlete in training and not as self-depreciating compare to when they first arrive. Then again, even though it was just twenty-one minutes, Sena did face an NCAA team in front of thousands; it should at least give his friend a MAX confidence boost. He turns his attention back to the phone, glad for the Japanese translation that's been provided. He's alright with reading simple English but anything beyond than that tends to give him a headache. "They're really serious about the traditions here, huh?"

"I think we don't have room to complain since us Japanese are far more traditional," Sena says with a chuckle.

Which okay, yeah, fair enough. "True." Glancing over the names, he freezes when a familiar surname almost jumps at him from the screen.

MAX no.

He pulls up everything he can about that person, reading his history and accomplishments and his reasons of joining Teikoku. Just to be sure, he carefully re-checks the kanji of the person's name and confirms his suspicions. He feels sick.

"Monta?"

He shoves the phone back to Sena, not quite processing at first the worried voice of his best friend. But he can't really hear anything beyond the blood roaring in his ears, the numbing shock. Scrambling to his feet, Monta nearly trips over the lobby's carpet as he runs outside.

"Monta!"

His breath is coming a little too quick as he stumbles into a thick crowd of tourists and students alike, successfully bewildering Sena long enough to board onto a campus bus, the doors closing shut behind him. Dropping onto the nearest seat, he buries his face into his hands and still, the name is burned in his mind.

Honjō Taka.

He has found his answer and like he fears, he's not sure if he's ready for it.

* * *

Monta doesn't know how long he sits at the bus stop while clutching Honjō's glove (the very same glove that he received from the MAX legendary fielder himself ten years ago) that he brought along with him for MAX luck, all alone while waiting for a bus to take him to the airport before deciding against it at the very last minute. He knows that it's long enough that he lets the third bus go, watching it as it drives away, feeling a jumbled of emotions. He doesn't understand anything right now.

Hearing feet hitting gravel, Monta looks up to see Sena and Komusubi looking worried and harried. He wonders how they found him. Before either of them can say anything, Monta speaks up, voice wavering and unsure.

"You know, I've always wanted to become the second Honjō. The most precious thing in the world for me, this glove, was the only connection I had to Honjō-san. For those ten years, day after day, I sworn on this glove to keep going with MAX effort. And I saw a dream of getting closer to Honjō-san."

His friends stay respectfully silent.

"But Honjō Taka," he pauses, gripping the glove tight. "Every day, he grew up under the personal care of the real deal." His vision is getting bleary from the tears that's pooling in his eyes. "To play football would mean that I, the fool that I am, will be crushed by the Honjō family." He lets out a hollow laugh. "Heh, it's hopeless. I'm thinking I'll be crushed even before I'm even in the team."

He sees Sena reaching out to him. "Monta…"

Punching the bus stop's advertisement board, he shakes his head. "No, I don't think I can do this. Truth is…I sent a mail to Hiruma-senpai that I'm heading home."

He sees his best friends still at that then, like a small bull, Komusubi charges over to shake him by the collar of his shirt. "T-this far, fugo!"

Sena places a gentle hand on Komusubi's shoulder before she pins Monta with that steady gaze; one of the very few things that can match up against Hiruma. And if Hiruma himself has trouble escaping that stare then Monta has no chance. He gulps, feeling tears stream down his face.

Sena's voice is as soft as her gaze as she once again reaches out a hand to him. "Komu's right. Why are you saying this after getting this far?"

"Because I can't take part of it, okay?!" He yells out before he can stop himself, backing away. "I know my own situation best! I won't be able to be any use to the team with all these thoughts in my head! I was always aiming for him! And if I go through with this because c'mon, let's be real, with Sena's speed combined with Hiruma-senpai's strategies and not to mentioned the MAX amazing line Kurita-senpai and Komu are building, it's only a matter of time before I'll have to face Honjō Taka!" He clenches his eye shut, grateful that at least it's only him and his friends at the bus stop. "I don't want to be Honjō-san's enemy! I can't fight against Honjō-san." He presses a hand against his eyes. "I can't."

A hand grasps his arm. He peeks to see Komusubi gives him a firm shake while Sena reels the both of them into a hug. "C'mere."

He thinks of resisting at first but he's so tired so crumples forward instead, clutching his friends close with a choked sob. "Neither of you understand. There's nothing more important to me in this world than this glove in my hands!"

"Even us, fugo?" Komusubi's words stop him short, giving him some semblance of rational thought. "No," he chokes out, pulling away from the hug, though his friends don't let him go far, both grasping one of his elbows each. "No. I didn't mean it like that. I-I just…" The last thing he wants to do is hurt his best friends because of his shortcomings.

Sena squeezes his elbow, eyes imploring. "Help us understand, Monta. Please?"

It's the plea and the blatant, honest desire to understand on his friends' faces, to help, that does him in. He breathes out. "...To be like Honjō-san is all I ever wanted."

So he tells them about his ten year hardship, all the training and the hard work, just to reach the goal of being the second coming of Honjō.

When he's done, he feels calmer, feeling, not better exactly but pretty close. Looking around at the darkened bus stop, he sees the three of them have somehow migrated to sitting on the bench, both of his friends at his sides, deep in thought. Sena is the first to break the silence. "But Raimon Tarō is just as amazing. If not more so."

"Sena…"

"Hear me out, please?"

After a moment, he sighs with a nod.

"Honjō-senshū has done amazing things but Monta, you," Sena nudges his left shoulder. "You are just getting started. And to be honest, we like you just the way you are."

"F-fugo! Not second!" Komusubi nudges his other shoulder with a huff.

Sena chuckles. "Yeah. You're not a second generation to anyone." Sena pins him again with that stare. "You are not second. Period."

"D-don't take, fugo!"

"That's right. I mean, if you're busy being someone else, who's gonna be you, right? So...please don't take Raimon Tarō away."

As his friends settle comfortably at his sides, Monta tries to remember how to work the muscles in his jaw because honestly? He feels gutted, feels so lucky to have his friends who are willing to sit with him in an empty bus stop in a foreign country that none of them have ever been before just to be here for him when he's panicking and having some sort of crisis.

"I—" he tries. "I'm enough?"

"Yes," Sena replies, quick and sure; her answer simple and clear so there's no room for doubt or misunderstandings.

"Y-yes, fugo!" Komusubi echoes as he points a stern finger at him. Sena laughs softly and nods, picking up and parsing the grand words that their best friend just gave him. It takes him awhile to catch up (it's been a MAX long day, give him a break!) but when he does, he allows a few more tears to escape.

Yes, you are enough. Know this my friend, for you are the only one who can limit your greatness. Remember, for who you are is enough.

Monta sniffs. "Yeah?"

"Always." Both his friends say in unison.

Really, what exactly can he say to that? Still. "And if I still want to go back home?"

"Okay, fugo!"

"If it's really what you want then, okay. But if it's not, then we won't let you run away, give up or make excuses. It gets tiring, trust me."

He figures that would be the case. He's a bit annoyed but plenty grateful though. "I don't want to disappoint you guys."

Sena hums. "I think you should worry more about not disappointing yourself, Monta."

"Fugo!" Komusubi pounds his chest to emphasis his point.

"But what if I do end up disappointing myself, will I still be enough?"

"Yes." Again with the unison. If they're not careful, they're gonna end up like the sankyōdai.

He lets out a watery sigh before slapping his cheeks with both hands, startling his friends. He nods, feeling a bit of his courage coming back. "I'm still MAX scared but...alright."

Sena raises a brow. "Alright?"

"I'm going back with you guys. To football and…" His friends are right, he's gotten this far. He'll never know what's gonna happen if he doesn't try so he nods to himself, making his decision. "To the Devil Bats."

Komusubi gives his back hearty smack. "H-happy!"

Sena grins. "That we are and hey," the running back leans against him. "If you're scared, let be scared together; just like you said back on the plane."

Komusubi nods, folding his arms as he leans against him too. "T-together, fugo!"

Monta lets out his first laugh since finding out about Taka, punching the air with a cry. "MAX!" A moment later, they burst out laughing, feeling the tension dispersing in the cool spring air. Monta doesn't know how long they stay like that, all three of them waiting for a bus to bring them back to the campus. All he knows is that he's not alone and with friends with like these, who won't let him run away from his problems, Monta thinks he's gonna be just fine. Once the bus arrives, they pass the time by joking and goofing off like the teenagers they are.

He and Komusubi are roaring with laughter as they watch Sena placing her ponytail between her nose and upper lip, giving herself a makeshift moustache and making silly faces at them when they arrive back to the inn. They find Kurita and Hiruma already waiting in the parking lot, the former looking relieved while the latter…uh-oh. That grin looks extra MAX scary.

Once they're near enough, Hiruma dangles a cellphone in front of him, the screen showing his earlier mail to the captain. "Fucking monkey, this pathetic mail you sent to me, you don't mind if I delete it, right?"

Monta drops onto the pavement, folding his legs and placing his hands on his knees. He bows low. "Yes! Forgive me, Hiruma-senpai! This one was MAX confused! But no longer as I have decided to be a part of the Devil Bats! Please just destroy the—"

A crack sounds above him before broken pieces of a cellphone falls onto the ground in front of him.

Dumbfounded, Monta blinks up to see the gun that's inches away from his face, gulping as Hiruma's grin turns MAX maniacal, a vein throbbing on his temple. "Ah."

"Hiruma…" Kurita tries in vain to sooth the blond, placing his hands on Hiruma's shoulders.

"Monta, run!" Sena screams out before MAX bravely launching herself at the irate quarterback. Komusubi soon joins into the fray with a MAX war cry as bullets fly.

"Instead of 170, now I only have 169 cellphones, you fucking monkey!"

"Mukyaa!"

And really, that's it. That's how he, Raimon Tarō finds his place amongst the Devil Bats; with his MAX crazy friends and seniors chasing and screaming at each other around the inn's parking lot, all the while causing a MAX riot.

He laughs.

Yup. He's definitely gonna be MAX okay.

* * *

 

A sharp ringtone cuts him off from his decoding. Blinking, he glances over at Kurita who is still simultaneously fussing over and scolding the three brats for the past ten minutes before he pulls out his phone, fully intends to ignore it (he's busy for fuck's sake)—and then sees the name of Notre Dame's athletics management flashing on the screen.

"Finally." Yōichi accepts the call. "Yo."

"Dunno how you did it, Mr. Hiruma but you're one scary kid," Yost's southern drawl says on the other end of the line. "Still, I gotta say I'm impressed. Lettin' the news about Mr. Don's refusal along with his racist and sexist comments go viral and causin' an uproar and gettin' the public on our side like that. Although, whether people believe Miss Kobayakawa is a girl or not is up for debate. Anyway, his people just called us up, demandin' to abolish the ban and restrictions because the uproar is causin' Mr. Don and his daddy bad PR."

Good. "And?"

"Ya'll be happy to know that the rules are back to the way it should. I'm callin' up to tell ya that Miss Kobayakawa's first trial will be later in the afternoon today; in the Performance Centre. It's in the north side of Notre Dame stadium."

Closing his laptop, he ambles towards his teammates, snagging Kobayakawa by her collar as he passes by. He drags them down to a secluded corridor of the inn, one with a series of benches and dumps the squeaking running back onto a bench. Sitting down beside the brunette, he switches the phone to speaker before placing it on the bench between himself and Kobayakawa.

"Transport?" Yōichi asks as he leans against the wall behind him. Kobayakawa is quiet and attentive, recognizing without being told of the importance of the phone call. That's the thing about Kobayakawa, being able pick up the change of moods just by proximity.

"They'll pick you up in an hour," Yost says. "So you kids better get ready." Kobayakawa starts slightly at hearing Yost's voice, glancing up at him with big, hopeful eyes.

He smirks in answer.

Kobayakawa bites her lip to contain the grin that threatens to split her face as she timidly gestures at the phone, silently asking permission.

Yōichi shrugs.

Kobayakawa beams as she clears her throat. "Um, Yost-san?"

Yost laughs. "Hello, Miss Kobayakawa. Hope you're well, darlin' 'cause like I told Mr. Hiruma, you're gonna have your first trial later in the afternoon."

"I-," Kobayakawa sputters. "I am? I mean everything had gone okay with the rules?"

"Yes they did, darlin'."

"Oh." Kobayakawa stares blankly ahead before taking a deep breath. "You're expecting all of us, right?"

"Yep. Don't worry, we'll fill you in once you get here."

"…The Performance Centre, right?" Good, the chibi did her reading.

"That's right. So we'll see you in an hour, alright?"

"I— yes, of course. Thank you, Yost-san."

"You're very welcome, darlin'," Yost says warmly before hanging up.

When Kobayakawa dazedly looks up, she zeroes in on him, apparently worried before her face clears slightly. "Thank goodness, you've rested."

He arches a brow.

Kobayakawa gestures wildly at the phone that's still between them. "I don't want to waste more of your time than I already have. I was worried that rewriting back the rules—"

"Is fucking child's play once I have the proper tools," Yōichi states, crossing his legs. "And you haven't wasted my time."

Kobayakawa looks infinitely relieved at that. "That's…really good to know."

Seriously, the girl worries about the weirdest shit.

Suddenly appearing nervous, Kobayakawa bites her lip. "Um, Hiruma-san, that is," the brunette takes a breath before pressing her lips into a firm line. "If you're not opposed to it, may I ask you to be my paraclete?"

His gums snaps as he blinks down at the running back, admittedly surprised. "Paraclete? One of the eleven traditions of Eyeshield 21?"

The Paraclete or Advocate, is someone who forms a unit with Eyeshield 21, usually of similar age. Whether as a teammate, manager or trainer, Paracletes are training partners to the title holders; a system created a little after the title's inception. With the title having a hundred year history, the system acts as a way to ensure the one who carries it will be able to endure it. With that pressure and intensity acting as a drive, paracletes had also gone and made a name for themselves over the decades, with one of the more famous ones being the fullback, Louis J. Salmon; the first ever paraclete for Eyeshield 21.

It's the ultimate test of will power and endurance.

Kobayakawa nods, blush high on her cheeks even as her eyes stay determinedly on him. "Yes."

Yōichi points to himself. "You know the irony of naming me as the Paraclete, don't you?"

The girl huffs out a soft chuckle at that. "Very aware but honestly, I can't think of anyone more suitable than you. Though, using the title 'paraclete' might be a little…" Kobayakawa trails off with a rueful shrug.

He lets out a particularly loud cackle at that. "Name me as the Advocate and we'll call it even, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa blinks before breaking out into giggles. "You mean short for devil's advocate?"

He flicks Kobayakawa on the forehead, snickering at the girl's startled yelp. "Fool, drop the possessive apostrophe. It's the Devil Advocate."

Pouting, Kobayakawa rubs her forehead. "Is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa jumps up with a happy cry before coughing into her fist when he raises an amused brow at the girl. Kobayakawa points back to the general direction of their teammates, all the while trying to smother her grin. She's doing a shit job at it. "I better head back. Kurita-san didn't seem like he was done."

"Fucking fatass almost had a nervous breakdown because of you three." He doesn't say that he wasn't pleased at the brats' disappearing act either. Being Japanese, they're all used to being independent from a young age but they're on foreign soil and he's not keen on fishing out the brats from any potential trouble. They're the Devil Bats. They make trouble, not get drag into one.

Kobayakawa winces, catching on anyway. "I'm sorry."

He waves the apology away. "Just answer me one thing, fucking chibi."

"…yes?"

"You went after the fucking monkey. Why not just let the brat go back home and be done with it? He already gave up, after all." Yōichi has never seen the point of staying with people who gives up just because of set backs; giving up everything just because there's some 'impossible' hurdle. Yet, Kobayakawa ran without a second thought, chasing after her wayward friend even after the monkey himself gave up.

Kobayakawa looks confused, like the answer should've been obvious. "Because Monta is my best friend."

Lips curling in disdain, he snorts. "So? You don't honestly expect to solve his shit for him."

"No," Kobayakawa frowns. "I won't help anyone by doing that."

"Yet you went after him anyway. What, would you've follow him back home?" His mind is whirring like it does whenever he tries to solve something particularly confusing.

"No. But just because I can't solve his problems, doesn't mean I can't help him, even if it's just being there for him."

"To do what? Talk his ear off?"

Kobayakawa gives him a contemplative stare, no doubt seeing something more to his questions. Blinking, the brunette shrugs. "Maybe but then, even if I don't have the right words to say to help, I can just sit with him."

"Sit with him," he deadpans. "How the hell does that help anyone?"

Kobayakawa smiles, soft and sad. "It helps knowing that the people who care about you are there for you, even when they don't say a word. Even when you've given up, they're still there for you, still beside you."

This is treading into dangerous territories, ones that are dredging up old memories of hurtful words being flung at a defeated form, words that no matter how pissed he was, are things he didn't mean, things he actually wishes he can take back. "It's a waste of time, just leave them and let them give up. They made their decision. No matter what path they take, people without guts have nothing ahead of them." He ignores the poisonous taste in his mouth with little success because even though he knows that there's some truth in those words, he knows even more that it's not all a complete concrete fact. The prime example is standing in front of him after all. Kobayakawa had all but given up with her bullying and gofer situation, resigned to her victim status in life; would have end up a shut in eventually and withered away. And yet, here she stands. Still shy but vivacious and so very free.

Unexpectedly, Kobayakawa kneels down on her hunches in front of him, ducking to catch his gaze with those eyes. The girl gently places her hands on his knees even as he crosses his arms, closing off. But Kobayakawa continues to watch him, her gaze steady and studious. She gives Yōichi a little nod before squeezing his knees. He would've jerk back but then, Kobayakawa's gaze turns fierce. "Then  **I'd**  be the one who's given up and honestly, I'm sick of doing that."

For some reason, he feels his blood slowly turning to ice. "Holding on would be foolish," he murmurs, tugging Kobayakawa's ear.

Kobayakawa frowns, undeterred. "I rather be a fool than be the sort of person that gives up on the people I care about; that abandons them. Even when they've given up, I won't give up on them." Then Kobayakawa's eyes soften as she smiles, achingly sincere. "Just like all of you hadn't given up on me even when I already did."

"That's different." Helping Kobayakawa had merit for the team; there was nothing beyond that.

(But there is something. There is).

Kobayakawa shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. But I've learned that in the end, just because someone gives up now, doesn't mean they'll give up forever. People can change." The girl smiles up to him, tender and understanding. "I did."

Yōichi swallows, tucking his suddenly cold hand back into his arms. Kobayakawa must've caught something because she reaches up to cradle his face, thumbs rubbing soothingly under his eyes. He doesn't shrug the girl away. They stay like that, not saying a word for shit knows how long and then, he slowly breathes out before uncrossing his arms.

Fuck, maybe Kobayakawa has a point. Maybe.

"Go," he whispers to the concerned brunette. "Before Kurita crushes you into another one of his hugs."

Kobayakawa furrows her brows, unsure.

Raising his hands, he grasps the running back's hands, squeezing them briefly before tugging them away from his face. "Go. Tell the brats about what Yost said."

Reluctantly, Kobayakawa stands before nodding, respecting his need to be alone and goes back to the others.

Picking up the phone from the bench, he checks for any updates regarding the clubhouse before pocketing it. A moment later, he fishes out his personal phone, pulling up the last mail from his father. He stares at the mail, eyes scanning the screen and reading the simple message wishing him 'Happy Birthday', written in a not so simple cipher. It's a thing in his family. Chewing and popping his gum a few times, he looks up to stare at the direction of his team before his eyes gravitate back down to his phone as he weighs his options. Answers are still scarce but then, it's not just answers and facts that he wants anymore. Logic dictates that he waits.

However…

Before he can overthink it through too much (something Yōichi is starting to realise is something he's been doing when it comes to his father), he rapidly ciphers up his first reply in four years and hits send then shoves his phone back into his coat pocket.

His logic is born out of chaos and is far more flexible than most; it's just a matter of adding another axiom to his theorem.

After ensuring that everyone is set, they wait by the lobby as a bus arrives right on the hour, bringing them to the Performance Centre. The special facilities are smaller than what anyone would expect but then, what it lacks in size, it makes up with its superior equipment and architecture. Tucked on the north side of the stadium, the building is a state-of-the-art complex of brick and glass. A guide meets them at the entrance leading them to one of the two hallways towards the main office where the three coaches wait for them on a long meeting desk as they finally explain the goddamn details of what they should expect from their stay.

"Miss Kobayakawa," DeSantos begins. "As you are the official challenger, you may decide if you want to have a paraclete. Do you know of the tradition?"

"Yes sir."

DeSantos nods. "That saves us time then. Would you like one?"

"Yes."

Foster looks curiously at Kobayakawa, sees the sure way she carries herself and comes to the right conclusion. "You already have someone in mind, don't you?"

Kobayakawa immediately glances at him, the question clear in her eyes. Yōichi doesn't get flattered easily but the fact that Kobayakawa still wants him as her confederate warms the cockle of his black heart. Sort of.

He nods.

Kobayakawa practically beams at him before turning questioningly to the rest of their teammates. The brats grin at her with a nod, causing Kobayakawa to relax before the brunette nods to the coaches. "Yes. I would like to name Hiru— I mean, Yōichi Hiruma-san, who plays quarterback as my Para— uh, Advocate."

Foster hums, looking pleased. "Quarterback, huh? Even better, especially since the both of you are on the backfield."

Yost folds his arms as he leans forward. "Is it safe to assume that you know the eleven traditions regarding Eyeshield 21, Miss Kobayakawa?"

The running back nods, fingers twitching nervously. "Yes."

"And the rest of you?"

Taking on a serious air, Kurita is the one who answers for them, his English stilted yet confident. "We have been informed, yes." Huh, looks like Kurita has done some growing up if he's not depending on Yōichi for every official shit.

"Then you know that once Miss Kobayakawa passes the first trial, you have the option to join her in the boot camp?"

They all nod.

The boot camp, while not compulsory is a necessity for the team as a whole since it wouldn't do well if the team can't keep up with their running back after all. It spans three days filled with scrimmages and training in the shit that one would expect in a NFL combine.

"And?" Foster inquires. "Are you all participating?"

Yōichi snorts, lips curling into a mocking grin. "Why else are we here?" He cuts a glance to the rest of the team. "Right?"

The Bats agree enthusiastically, including the monkey. Keh, about damn time the brat made a decision.

Yost guffaws. "Well alrighty then. Why don't y'all get yourselves settle in? We'll meet up at four o'clock on the speed field."

"That's field number three," DeSantos adds with an eyeroll.

"It sounds more hip this way!"

"You're still yammering about that?"

Foster sighs as the two coaches squabble, giving them a smile as he points to the door. "That's all for now, kids. The guides will take you to your rooms."

Rolling his eyes, Yōichi gestures the others to follow as they are asked to. Ensuring that he's the last to leave, he throws a sleep grenade inside the room before shutting the double doors with a cackle. He does like to be the one to have the last 'word' in so to say.

It's not long before the sound of thumping reaches his ears.

He smirks. "Ya-ha!"

The Bats collectively sweatdrop beside him while Kurita groans. "Hiruma..."

He shrugs, replacing his gum. "Its just a ten minute nap."

Kobayakawa gently pushes his back, sighing exasperatedly. "Let's go before Hiruma-san finds another target."

With the way their guide is eyeing them disdainfully, he might've already found it. Following their respective guides, they are separated depending on their positions. While he prefers to have Cerberus near, he decides to send the mutt to room with the monkey just in case. Rather not have another goddamn run away scene.

Their annoyed looking guide brings them in front of the door to room 2D 121 before stopping to dump their bags at their feet. The guide turns around and hands him a packet. "This has the key cards to your room and the standard welcome packet. Dunno when that Challenger is gonna be along but a trainer will probably go over everything with you later so lets hope for your sake the flake will be here soon 'cause if he ain't, he fails." He snorts. "Though I doubt that even if he does show that he'd pass since I hear that he's a Jap like you. You guys won't last a minute against us Americans."

Yōichi eyes the packet, weighing his options. Rifle or machine gun? Decisions, decisions. He tilts his head up, grinning wide at the suddenly nervous looking guide. No, a bazooka will work best with racist idiots. Satisfied with his choice, he pulls out the bazooka, aiming it right at the fucker's sheet white face. He lets out a dark cackle. "Wanna repeat that, fucking moron?"

"Wait!" Kobayakawa steps in between them, pressing a hand to Yōichi's chest. The girl turns to look at the cowering guide. "We're sharing a room?"

"…w-what?"

Kobayakawa sighs, eyeing Yōichi imploringly. He sets the bazooka down but doesn't put it away. Kobayakawa bows her head in thanks before shifting her attention back at the guide. "I'm the challenger and I'm asking you—"

"No way in hell." The guide actually regains enough of his bearings to eye Kobayakawa with clear arrogant derision. Unexpectedly, that makes Yōichi's hackles rise because how fucking dare this shithead look at Kobayakawa that way. The idiot has the gall to mock the running back. "You? No way a girl and a Jap at that, is actually the challenger."

"And yet here I am." Kobayakawa points to Yōichi then back to herself. "Here we both are under the recommendation and approval of Notre Dame coaches."

The fucker leers at Kobayakawa, giving the girl a once over. "Must be because you spread your legs for them, huh, little Asian whore?"

'No,' he thinks with a snarl as blood roars deafeningly in his ears. He tightens his hold on the bazooka, fangs gnashing together. 'Thrice damn it all to fucking hell. No. Just fuck this shit.'

Kobayakawa pales but doesn't waver as she glances at Yōichi, giving him a slight shake of her head. Yōichi reluctantly inclines his head just so, watching as Kobayakawa grins at the bastard, soft and dangerous not unlike a blade under silk. "That's sexual harassment against a minor isn't it?" Kobayakawa nods behind the guide, "and with witnesses too."

The assclown flinches, turning to see people from the rest of the hall out of their rooms, frowning disapprovingly at the commotion.

Kobayakawa steps forward to the idiot guide, jaw jutting out stubbornly, unconcerned of the height difference. "If you have any doubts, you're free to ask the countless of spectators, the officials, the Fighting Irish," Kobayakawa crowds the unnerved guide to a wall the more she goes on. "Or maybe ask the Huskies as to why they couldn't take me out of the game before time was up...or how about watching the video of the match? No, better yet," Kobayakawa pauses, giving the puce-faced guide a Devil Bat grin. "How about asking something far simpler that even you can understand? Ask yourself why am I the challenger and you're  _not_."

It takes the bastard an embarrassing long time to even reply, looking everywhere but at Kobayakawa. "Whatever. You and your boyfriend won't last a minute anyway so just pack your bags and go back to your pathetic country."

Kobayakawa frowns. "Look, I don't know what your problem is but please leave before your bigotry annoys my senior to shoot you."

"Little bitc—"

BOOM!

There's a series of shrieks before the hall descends into a long, horrified silence. After a moment, Kobayakawa sighs and lets go of the asshat's shirt, who backs away from them and falls on his ass, a noticeable stain between his legs. Ugh, fucking disgusting.

"If I wasn't as fast as I claim to be, that," Kobayakawa covers her nose with one hand as the other points to the blackened wall at the end of the hallway, directly where the bastard would've been pined to as a fucking decorative if Kobayakawa hadn't grab the idiot, "would've been you right now. So unless you want to lose more than your dignity, I advise you to leave because mercy isn't in my senior's dictionary."

The fucker scrambles away with a terrified cry. "I-I'll have you b-both thrown out f-for this!"

Hell fuck to the no; he's not through yet. The shit stain is gonna fucking burn.

BOOM!

Hearing the terrified shriek of the dumbass is music to his ears, watching smugly as the bastard gets blasted off outside a nearby window and into the pool below. Pity they're on the second floor but he supposes it'll have to do for now. Beside him, Kobayakawa slaps her forehead with a sigh, a smile tugging at her lips.

"YA-HA!"

Eyeing the scorch marks in the hallway, Yōichi figures he'll have the fucking dumbass fix it using his salary for all the trouble he's caused. Then, maybe have him fired too. He turns to grin maniacally at the other occupants in the hall, who're peeking behind their doors in horrified curiosity. "Anyone else?" They all shake their heads before slamming their doors closed with a series of locks. Yōichi scoffs with a satisfied smirk. "Good."

Kobayakawa gives him a half smile, still looking a bit pale. "Will we get in trouble for this?"

"Hell no. Besides," he jerks a thumb to a security camera, one of many in the hallway, "evidence."

"Ah." Kobayakawa blinks then nods before staring worriedly at their door. "Are you okay with this, Hiruma-san?"

He shrugs as picks up the discarded packet and fishes out the keycard. "It's only for three days."

"I…yes but still. Girl." Kobayakawa points to herself then to him, voice deadpan. "Boy."

"Yes. I know~" he singsongs with a smirk. "I'm aware of my priorities, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa makes a noise of confusion. "Priorities?"

He snorts as he unlocks the door and swings it open. "I'm not dead, Kobayakawa."

Sighing, Kobayakawa rubs her neck. "Sorry, I just think that it's not gonna be easy for me to share a room with a very handsome guy—"

"Handsome?" Yōichi interrupts with a smug grin, looking down at Kobayakawa.

Kobayakawa pauses, her face turning a bright red. "I said that out loud didn't I?"

Yōichi gasps theatrically as he cradles his cheeks, switching to English as he adopts a heavy southern accent. "Oh me, oh my! I'm blushin' like an apple in July!"

Kobayakawa groans, trying futilely to push them both inside their room. "Please don't be smug about it. Surely you know how devilish handsome you are— oof!"

Leaning back and almost making himself dead weight, Yōichi gives an exaggerated swoon, one hand to his forehead while the other clutches his heart. "Oh, my heart I do declare!"

"Hiruma-san…!" Kobayakawa groans as she pushes him, a hint of laughter in her voice. He waits for the right moment before straightening himself up, neatly side stepping the stumbling running back, who loses her balance and falls into a heap on the floor with a startled shout.

Sitting up, Kobayakawa blows away a stray bang and scowls up at him. "Jerk!"

Planting his hands to his hips, he smirks down at the harried looking running back. "Brat."

Once Kobayakawa dust herself off, they grab their bags and closed the door behind them before taking a look around their room, hyper aware of each other. He takes note on how Kobayakawa has retreated inside herself, quiet and skittish. He would've suggested a change of rooms but a quick call to an apologetic Yost confirms what he already suspects. With their situation being a literal last minute thing, the centre is packed with players getting ready for the upcoming Blue-Gold Game. Combined with the fact that the Performance Centre has very limited rooms since it's only for starting players getting ready for big games or players preparing for Combines, it's a definite no-go. Which is why he knows that it's too late of an option to coerce someone to change rooms because the result will still be the same. Plus, when it comes to football, Yōichi is willing to do the humane thing and not disrupt important training and a quick glance at Kobayakawa shows that the brunette knows and agrees to this too.

Fine.

Although, Yōichi suspects that it might also be a form of petty retaliation from Oberman. No matter; they'll just have to adapt accordingly.

Even so, he made the mistake once in forgetting that Kobayakawa is a girl with needs different from his own and he's sure as hell ain't gonna make the same mistake twice. For as much as Kobayakawa has grown comfortable around him, she's still a girl and he's still a boy, both thrown into a situation that even he hadn't anticipated since he wasn't aware of the possibility of them rooming together. A miscalculation. Popping his gum with a snap, he feels that it's suddenly very crucial to let Kobayakawa know that she's got nothing to be worried about. "Kobayakawa," he says, nudging the younger teen, forcing Kobayakawa to look up. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. I'm a lot of things but I'm not that kind of fucker."

Kobayakawa starts, giving him an incredulous look as she waves her hands about. "Of course I know that you're not, Hiruma-san!"

Yōichi raises a brow at the sheer vehemence in Kobayakawa's voice, as if the thought of Yōichi being a fucking sexual predator is downright insulting to the running back. Charming but dangerous. Then again, Kobayakawa isn't stupid so she most likely wouldn't have believe that, much less said it if she'd pick up that kind of shitty behavior from him. Fucking empath.

"It's just, um," Kobayakawa plays with her ponytail, gesturing to their room. "I've never been in this situation before." Clearing her throat, she changes the subject, pointing to the two beds. "Uh, left or right?"

He snorts, grabbing his bag from the floor. "Devil of Deimon, fucking chibi. Left, obviously."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kobayakawa smiles, delighted. The girl hops on over to the remaining bed, pointing excitedly at the bedside window. "I get the view!"

Their room is a two singles bedroom that's simple yet comfortable with all the amenities one would find in typical hotel rooms. Like most places here, it comes with a view of the campus of Notre Dame.

Not wanting to make it more awkward than it should be, he and Kobayakawa make quick work with their room arrangement before heading out to meet up with the others for a late lunch. With the first trial filling her head, thoughts about the two of them sharing a room seem to be the furthest in Kobayakawa's mind. Good. He'd rather not waste any time or resource on worrying about inconsequential shit.

By the time they finish their lunch, they head down to the fields and facilities to get a feel of their training and what to expect from the camp. While they wait for the Kobayakawa's trial, they familiarize themselves with the equipment and all the amenities. By the time 1600 rolls around, they go to the third field to find the three coaches waiting for them, a slew of trainers at their side.

He sees Kobayakawa paling beside him before she visibly gathering herself and stands at attention in front of the officials.

Yost gives the girl a nod before addressing everyone as a whole. "We will now commence with the first trial."

The first trial is a series of seven drills consisting of the 40-yard dash, shuttle run, off-tackle reaction, COD pitch drill, blast read, find the ball and finally, the pass routes. Whatever idiocy or misgivings anyone have regarding Kobayakawa, whether it's her sex or race are instantly blown away straight to hell the moment she's on the field. In the end, the first trial is a success, with Kobayakawa passing all seven drills and almost breaking half of the previous records.

Yōichi laughs under his breath, feeling just a hint of pride.

Obviously, Kurita is the first to congratulate Kobayakawa, sweeping her into one of his crushing hugs with a goddamn sob. Smirking, he watches as Kobayakawa's friends join in the hug before he makes his way to the coaches, flicking Kobayakawa's ear as he passes by the dog pile.

His smirk takes on a smug edge as he approaches the officials. "Let's discuss about the boot camp shall we?"

The next hour and a half is filled with giving them a breakdown about the camp, from schedules to appointed venues. Once they're done, they head on to have a quick dinner and another tour around the facilities before retiring to their rooms for the night...which brings back to the fact that he's sharing a room with Kobayakawa.

Sonuvabitch.

"Ano," Kobayakawa begins, subconsciously switching back to Japanese. "It's been awhile since dinner so, uh, would you like to jump?"

Jump, as in dual jump roping. It's something Kobayakawa suggested the first day they arrived in America since they don't really have the time or space to play their hybrid game. Sometimes, one jumps and the other jumps in without a rope and they jump together while other times they stand side by side as one of them has the jump rope, starts jumping, and then passes one of the handles to the other while continuing to jump rope. Most of the time however, they prefer the two-person wheel; standing side by side, each with a jump rope then exchanging the inside handles of their jump ropes before they jump together and at the same time. It's a damn good way to hone their skills on reading each other, surprisingly.

Yōichi hums, tilting his head to Kobayakawa. "Shoulda suggested that before we got in, fucking chibi."

"Sorry. I was preoccupied about tomorrow," Kobayakawa says while sheepishly rubbing her head.

He shrugs. "Why the hell not?"

In the end, they decide to do it in the room since neither of them is in the mood to go down to the gym and they have the space for it. After an hour of a non-stop session of trying to one up the other (which he won, obviously) they're left panting and sweating, with matching grins on their faces.

Determined not to lose the momentum and make this awkward, he smirks down at Kobayakawa. "Janken?"

Kobayakawa gives a slow nod. "Winner takes the shower first."

"One, two—" Yōichi swiftly jabs one of Kobayakawa's pressure point and breaks away to the bathroom. "Psyche!"

"Hey!"

Quickly grabbing a change of clothes, he just manages to close the door before he hears banging on the other side.

"Hiruma-san, you jerk!"

"Shoulda expected that, brat!" Yōichi calls back.

By the time he's out of the shower, Kobayakawa is standing by the minibar checking out the snacks. As he towels his hair, he sees Kobayakawa looking up from her exploring and gives him a slow, curious blink, a flush on her cheeks before she seems to remember to be annoyed with him.

"You're a menace, Hiruma-san," harrumphs Kobayakawa as she goes to prepare for her own shower.

He smirks. Ah, music to his ears. "Flattery will get you nowhere, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa groans before slamming the bathroom door closed.

Letting his cackles petter out into a quiet laugh, Yōichi drops onto his bed, leaning back against the wall and on a whim, checks his personal phone. He's...surprised and curiously pleased to see his father's reply waiting in his inbox. Taking his time to decrypt the message, he feels a knot of tension unwind from his shoulders as he reads the familiar and distinctively formal smart-alec way of his father's reply. After he finishes ciphering and sending his own message back, he looks up to see Kobayakawa mirroring him on her bed, only with a training menu instead of her phone. Giving his hair one last scrub, he stands to hang his towel on a hanger, forgoing on styling his hair from its usual spikes. It's just him and Kobayakawa anyway. Combing his hair with his fingers, he idly checks on Kobayakawa to see her typically gnawing her lip, no doubt worrying about the boot camp. His eyes then catches the state of Kobayakawa's bare feet.

He walks towards Kobayakawa. "The hell is that?"

Startled, the brunette looks confusedly at him before following Yōichi's gaze. "Ah..." Kobayakawa wiggles her toes. "It's henna."

He tilts his head, intrigued by the somewhat familiar patterns painted on Kobayakawa's skin. "Henna?"

Kobayakawa smiles shyly at him as she extends a foot slightly. "It's a dye. Quite a common practice in India. I kinda took it up a few years back after visiting my grandparents."

Yōichi hums in thought before reaching over to snatch the running back's foot to have a better look, causing Kobayakawa to squeak in protest.

His brows rise in recognition. "Puzzles. You dyed puzzles on your feet." Yōichi turns the foot slightly. "Constellations?"

"...Sagittarius and Capricorn since I'm a cusp." Kobayakawa tries to tug her foot free. "Hiruma-san? Please let go. This isn't really comfortable."

Glancing up, he sees Kobayakawa lying halfway down on the bed, a hand tugging down her pyjamas shirt that's riding up a bit. Kobayakawa looks good like this, warm and comfortable with her long hair down and messy, flush high on her cheeks from her recent shower and shit he needs to let go like right fucking now.

Releasing the appendage as if burned, Yōichi clears his throat before he swipes the training menu away from the running back, throwing it on the bedside table.

"Hiruma-san!" Kobayakawa reaches over to try and get the menu back. He stops the girl with a hand on the slightly damp hair.

"Go to sleep, Kobayakawa. We're gonna fucking need it for tomorrow."

The running back slumps. "...I understand. I just hope I'll be okay." Kobayakawa fiddles with what he can only assume to be the brunette's own knitted blanket with a worried frown.

Yōichi reaches out to pull at Kobayakawa's cheeks, cackling at the face the running back makes at him before letting go and throwing himself on his bed. Getting comfortable, he lies on his back, glancing at the pouting brunette with a smirk. "Your odds aren't zero percent, fucking chibi."

Slowly, the running back smiles. "Yes, I guess they aren't." She gets under the covers before turning to her side, facing him. "Same goes to you, Hiruma-san."

He scoffs. "Damn right." Yōichi pulls out a gun and shoots the light switch, drowning the room in darkness.

He hears Kobayakawa snorts softly before whispering. "Good night, Hiruma-san."

"Hn," he closes his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly despite the circumstances.

True to form, the next day he feels like the walking dead because by the end of the first day of training, Yōichi isn't sure whether he's even awake or asleep anymore. All he knows that he's almost constantly in motion.

In the ass crack of dawn, he and Kobayakawa had warmed up with laps around the field together before joining the others for breakfast and film study. Then, they separated into their respective fields; Monta with the ends, Kurita and Komusubi with the line, and finally, he and Kobayakawa with the backs. He knew from the moment he stepped onto the field and was strapped into a special full body weight suit that the training for him and Kobayakawa are to be different from the rest of the team. Logical. Especially considering the both of them are to be the pillars and anchors to the team and game plays. It also shows in the numbers that the three days are gonna hurt like a fucking bitch.

Ya-ha!

He and Kobayakawa were in two separate ends of the field, close enough to see one another but far enough to not hear much of the other even with his hearing.

For the rest of the day, everyone worked on their position training with their coaches and trainers. By late afternoon, right before dinner, they played scrimmages, practicing game plays and simulating a thousand different possible situations on the gridiron. After a short break for dinner, it was another endless repetition of exercises and drills meant to burn the fundamentals movements of football and their respective positions into their muscles— and then finally, they're finishing up with even more laps around the field. After which, they will have to wash up and collapse in bed for what will no doubt feel like only a few fucking seconds before they'll have to wake up to repeat everything all over again.

Even after years of weight training and muscle buildup, the training still leaves him nothing but a sore, damn aching lump of mass that will not move as he wants it to no matter how hard he fucking tries. When his body refuses to listen to him like this, practice becomes a matter of muscle memory rather than actual memory.

After stumbling through the final lap around the field for the day, Yōichi doesn't even give a shit that he flops to the ground besides Kobayakawa, both of them wheezing and coughing out whatever's left of their fucking lungs. He and Kobayakawa look up dazedly at the blurry night sky, too tired to piece even a single word together.

Hell, he doesn't even have the energy to curse. Damn, even his jaw feels numb. After a quick wash at the communal showers, they head back to their room. In the end, any worry about their continued cohabitation is inconsequential because by time they get back to their room, neither he nor Kobayakawa have the strength to do much beyond brushing their teeth together and sleep.

And so it repeats for the next two days; running, weightlifting, drills, practices, scrimmages and film studies. Boot camp at it's finest. Once they're done with the last of the camp at 2100, he barely stops himself from joining the brats as they collapse onto their chairs at the meeting table while the officials look sympathetically at them with no small amount of pride. He smirks at that or tries to at least because shit, his face still feels numb. Goddammit.

After all the customary congratulations and other sorts of bullshit, the officials give them their training books and outlines, making sure they know about the best way to improve themselves.

"The details of the second trial will be explained once you make contact with Mr. Yamato, so until then, all the best Miss Kobayakawa. It has truly been a pleasure to meet you." Yost smiles at them all. "All of you."

DeSantos slides two pen drives across the table, one for Yōichi while the other skids towards Kobayakawa. "Since you two are the Challenger and Advocate; the cardinals of the team, here are the training menus, game plays and access files. It's everything you need to know in order to help prepare you for the showdown so to say."

Kobayakawa almost face plants onto the damn table when she bows, exhaustion overweighing her gratitude. "T-thank you very much for everything."

Foster answers this time. "You're very welcome, little miss. Now isn't there a plane you need catch later? Better get some rest before you leave."

Yōichi musters enough energy to curse at that, barely audible as it is. That's right…he told the officials that they'd be flying home on the 31st because of the tight schedule since there's still quite a few things that need to be done before the new school year begins that requires them to return as soon as possible. He doesn't regret it but fucking hell.

Biting back a sigh, he dips his head in acknowledgement. "Then we'll be taking our leave. C'mon, fucking brats! Our flight's gonna be at 0500 so pack up."

The brats groan in a unison. For once, he doesn't shoot them.

And just like that, their trip comes to an end.

 


	3. An End and a Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey home that is both a sign of an end and a beginning to all that is to come.

* * *

  **AN END AND A BEGINNING**

* * *

 

 

Daikichi aches in places he has not been aware to possibly ache prior to the boot camp. It is both enlightening and discerning. He harbored a quiet hope that the training he has endured the past months would be enough to carry him till the end and as the days wore on, he is thankful to find that it was. Barely.

The team, after a short rest at the Centre had awoken to pack their bags to journey to the airport for a very early morning flight. As they await for their plane, Daikichi takes the time given to help his master quietly watch over their exhausted teammates. He observes as his master and the captain talk in quiet tones nearby, sees the deflated way the ever-strong center holds himself. Even the captain looks visibly haggard.

While it's most certainly too early to return home, he is most grateful for the decision. America has been gracious during their stay, however he is grateful that they are to return to Japan and he believes that everyone, the captain included, will agree that they too are relieved to return to their homeland. He has learned much in the time he has spent in Notre Dame; especially it's history and the mark it left within American football the past century. A constant reference for him is that of the 'seven mules' from the team of 1924. T'was not a glamorous name but their reputation precedes them and he has learned much regarding the line they had built within the team. Their history has also taught him to be grateful for the advantages he has and to use them wisely. Though he does not posses his master's built, he is realizing that such a thing is less and less of a disadvantage and more of an advantage undiscovered if given the chance that it deserves.

He has always considered himself to be a stout contender to the path of a true man or at least striving to be one such man– a man of great strength, a figure upon whom his teammates can rely on during times of strife – but there has always been a hint of resentment of inheriting his honorable mother's short stature, a fact that he is most ashamed to admit, even within the confines of his mind. It is with the continued support of his master and teammates that resentment is slowly fading in the nothingness of which it belongs. Kurita has been most gracious with him, a near-constant source of comfort, listening to his admissions of guilt with a quiet understanding that belies the raging beast he can be on the field, offering kind, helpful advices worthy to that of a true man.

Daikichi's gaze flickers to the side from where he has been staring despondently at a monitor, watching his friends dozing lightly in their seats. A moment later, his master seats himself beside him while the captain throws himself into the seat next to Sena, startling the running back awake. He is amused to see his friend giving Hiruma a bleary glare of which it is returned with a smirk. He shares a grin with Kurita, seeing their respective best friends interact. It is most amusing to see. He turns his attention to the notebook in his hands; accounting spreadsheets and a list of ideas litter the pages. Some of them are that of his own part to assist Musashi while others are ideas he and his parents have been discussing in regards of thanking the Devil Bats in his time of being in their care. His mother had suggested that if he desires to show his gratitude and celebrate the continued growth of the team and their subsequent success in boot camp, then hanami might perhaps be the best option.

With that in mind, he turns to further discuss such an opportunity with his master as they wait for their flight with their comrades.

"Celebrate, fugo!" he spoke, his voice hushed so as not to disturb his exhausted teammates.  _'To celebrate our success, I would like to suggest a day for the team to assemble for hanami. As a sign of good beginnings.'_

"Yeah," Kurita agrees with a beaming smile, some fire returning to his eyes. "We can prepare the food and maybe some decoration and games…ah, I don't know why but it seems like we're missing something, though."

Daikichi nods, acknowledging the truth in his master's words. "T-time? S-setting?"

"Hmmm." The corner of Kurita's mouth twitches upwards. "That could be it. There's something that us Devil Bats would," he gestures vaguely, "you know, would be more at home with."

Daikichi can vaguely envision the idea of it however, at the moment, it is beyond his reach. But he has faith that he and his master will find the answer soon enough, they are men with patience, after all. Kurita fidgets beside him, twisting this way and that, and Daikichi glances up in time to see the center's brow furrow in worry. Making a surprised noise in the back of his throat, Kurita tenses, jumping up from his seat with a shout.

"I almost forgot to buy souvenirs from the airport!"

"A-assist!" Daikichi assures his master.

After excusing themselves from their comrades, the two of them maneuver through the terminal. He watches as Kurita embarks inside the limited choices of shops in hopes of finding items of interest, favoring nourishments over everything else. Considering the very early hour, there are not many to choose from.

Daikichi is in the middle of contemplating on purchasing a box of tea or something of the like for his parents, when something catches his eye. He turns, tugging on his master's sleeve and points to a relatively big souvenir shop that is surprisingly open. Kurita nods excitedly before following him inside the shop. They greet the sleepy sales assistant as per decorum and pursue the countless array of choices. He himself embarks towards the display of scarves they have hanging in the corner of the shop, feasting his eyes on the multitudes of print and cloth.

He lifts his hand to touch one gently, contemplating which would look the most fetching for his honorable mother. It is the least he can do for the esteemed woman that has given him so much. Even his short stature. The trip has not been a waste as it has given him unparalleled insights regarding his height, allowing him to be grateful for what he has instead of what he lacks. If nothing else, it will be a true sign of apology to his honorable mother for past ungrateful thoughts from her still unmanly son.

He scrutinizes the scarf in his hand, feeling satisfied at his finding. It is of a soothing color of pastel pink and cream with elegant vines printed on the cool cotton. It is beautiful like his honorable mother. Daikichi hopes his mother will bestow her beatific smile upon him when he presents it to her. His humble mother deserves something nice to wear once in awhile; perhaps on an outing with his honorable father. Nodding, he then turns towards the impressive collection of hats. A nice fedora, mayhap, for his revered father. Daikichi believes he will be appreciative of that. He picks one from the shelf, beige and simple looking with a strong and sturdy brim. A worthy choice for his father.

"All set, Komusubi-kun?"

He turns around and is met with the sight of his master, arms full of souvenirs that range from clothes to snacks. It will certainly add to his growing souvenir collection that his master had obtained from their stay in Notre Dame. Nodding with a small smile, they pay for their purchases. As they make their way back to their comrades, they pass by a flyer depicting an image of fireworks. He and his master stop and stare at the flyer then, at each other.

"Fireworks..."

"Night, fugo!"

As if struck by lightning, he and Kurita share a gargantuan grin, arriving at the same conclusion. "Yozakura!"

They rush back to the lounge area where the team are sitting, finding them almost in the position they left them. Both Monta and Cerberus are sleeping with Monta snoring slightly in his seat while Sena is squinting at her phone. Next to her, Hiruma is eyeing the screen of his laptop critically. Daikichi sees Sena and Hiruma trading glances before the quarterback raises a brow at their hastiness however, Hiruma does not say anything when Kurita shakes his head with a beaming smile. The captain rolls his eyes with a slight smirk then returns to his task. Sena gives them a drowsy smile before doing the same. He and his master quickly put away their purchases then ducks their heads together, scribbling furiously onto their respective notebooks so as to record the overflowing ideas; ones for a beginning that is befitting to that of the Devil Bats.

Truly, a most worthy endeavor indeed.

 

* * *

 

They get on a plane to Haneda feeling like death warmed over and considering who he is and the training he's done over the years, that's actually saying something. It's logical he supposes. If Eyeshield 21 is a title of the ages then the team that the title belongs to should be something of equivalent.

Kobayakawa is slumping in her seat as they wait to go through security, head bent and still squinting sleepily at her phone as Yōichi watches planes take off and land out of the giant windows and occasionally checks his own phone to reply to a recent mail from his father. It's been too damn long since he's actually have a proper conversation with his elusive father and what should have been messages full of stilted words are instead filled with their usual snarky intellectual banter. It's almost enough to keep Yōichi's thoughts from wandering to all the loose ends waiting for him on the other end of this plane ride. Not just football but his past as well. Data shows that the possibility of a misunderstanding has increased. There's also the fact that his father has returned using extremely aggressive methods to keep away his files; a sign that he's not the same man that gave up and made all of those excuses, who couldn't even bother to get himself back up.

_I don't want to be careless with people._

Humming under his breath, he plucks Kobayakawa's cellphone out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"You'll get this back once I've upgraded it because this thing is shit for your eyes, fucking chibi." He tries to ignore how much he sounds like his father whenever he says anything health related. Which reminds him. "Make damn sure you ice your feet once we're home. Can't let your muscles clamp up with the Spring Tournament coming up."

Kobayakawa pouts, ceasing her attempts in retrieving her phone once he tucks it inside his jacket. The girl knows him well enough not to mess with his clothes lest she sets off a fire hazard. Kobayakawa nods with a sigh. "I promise to take care of myself." She warily eyes his jacket. "In return, please don't turn my phone into a bomb, Hiruma-san. It's a gift from my parents."

He cackles. "As if. I have more fineness than turning it into a bomb. And really, fucking chibi?" He flicks Kobayakawa's nose, causing the girl to yelp and shielding her face with an indignant glare. "You're a hundred years too early to bargain with me."

Kobayakawa holds her glare for a little while longer before she lowers her hands to her lap, a cheeky grin on her lips. "Then it's a good thing that I'm setting up to be the light-speed running back. A hundred years is a but a small number, I'll catch up in no time."

Said running back dodges his next swipe with ease, proving her words might be true sooner than he thinks. He grins. "Little shit."

Kobayakawa lets out that pleasant silvery laugh as she takes out her doodle book and settles comfortably by his side. Yōichi has to wonder how things developed as they are now; side by side like this, like partners. By the time they're about to takeoff, he makes sure to have the whole row to himself and Cerberus, using it to stretch the whole length of his body and lie down, much to the flight attendant's consternation. Kobayakawa, who's seated in the row next to his, tries to hide a helpless smile with little success. After a moment, Yōichi tilts his head in thought at the word he used to describe the two of them.

Partners. That…doesn't sound half bad actually.

Righting himself up, he shakes away the thought for later and takes out his laptop to get some work done.

Yeah fucking right.

Three hours in and he's ready to curse up a storm. Popping the bubble with an audible snap, Yōichi reads the shitload of data on the screen with tired eyes. Damn his father for being so thorough. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, matting it down into a more natural mess. Clicking a link, he taps the armrest, scanning the confusing binary codes with an annoyed huff. Even when he has access to a senator's codes, finding something that makes sense is like trying to maneuver around a yagura castle move set; which he abhors and hell if his father doesn't know that.

Resisting the urge to shoot something, half because he's tired and half because his teammates are asleep not too far from him (he must be fucking exhausted if he's actually being considerate), he instead snaps his laptop closed and lies down heavily on the seats, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"Shit..." he swears under his breath.

Some time later in the flight, he blinks awake to find that he's actually tucked under a familiar knitted blanket, all soft, warm and smelling distinctively of herbs and other earthly scents; it soothes his headache somewhat, chasing away an old memory of yelling, slamming doors and years of ignored birthday gifts and phone calls from his mind.

_Then, **I'd**  be the one who's given up. I rather be a fool than be the sort of person that gives up on the people I care about; that abandons them._

"Fuck," he breathes, pushing himself up and folds the blanket haphazardly. Since the majority of the plane is asleep, he ties his hair back into a low ponytail and walks down the aisles, passing by his snoring teammates. He pauses when he realizes that Kobayakawa isn't amongst them. Humming, he sets numbers and data together and deduces the most likely place where he'll find the running back. When he finds Kobayakawa at the galley, he feels the rest of his headache receding as he takes in the smell of coffee. Kobayakawa looks up at him, eyes warm as she hands over the finished cup to him.

He takes it with an incredulous scoff. "There's no way you knew I was coming here."

Kobayakawa hides a smile behind her cup. "No. But I  _have_  shared a room with you for three days. And I've found that the coffee pot is always half empty by the time I'm out of the toilet, Hiruma-san."

"I take the fifth."

Kobayakawa doesn't bat an eye as she pouts. "Denied."

"On what grounds?" Yōichi smirks before taking a sip of his coffee; eyes closing involuntarily at the taste. Though it's not his favorite, it's still a goddamn crime in how Kobayakawa can make good coffee with cheap airline packets.

Kobayakawa looks ruefully at him. "Do I really need to answer that?"

He cackles.

Drinking quietly across from one another, Yōichi reviews the data in his head, cataloging them into their places; from football, school, and his father's files. He has no problem with the first and second, it's the third that's still slow going. He's this close on finding something, it's just a matter of cracking his old codes. With his father's own web of connections, no doubt the sly bastard had some people upgrade Yōichi's old codes and programmings that he must've left behind at home to use against him.

He starts slightly when Kobayakawa nudges her foot to his own, smiling slightly behind her cup with her hair free from its ponytail and gathered over a shoulder. "You'll find it, Hiruma-san."

Yōichi huffs, finishing the last dredge of his drink. "I damn well know that. It's still a fucking headache though."

"Even with the codes?"

"It's my father, I wouldn't expect anything less from him," he mutters before he can stop himself. His guard tends to be less severe whenever he's just woken up.

As he waits to be inundated with questions, Kobayakawa surprises him when she just chuckles, soft and amused. "Sounds like a crazy, brilliant family you have."

He cackles. "Fucking understatement." When the questions still haven't come, he raises a sardonic brow at the content looking running back. "Not gonna ask?"

"...If I ask, will you answer?" Kobayakawa pins him with that empathic stare, the same one that'll never let him bullshit his way out of things. "If you haven't told anyone until now, you must have your reasons. It's your problem that only you understand and I have no right to know. I don't have a way of stepping into the depths of you without leaving damages." The running back washes her cup, placing it on the drying mat before smiling at him and drying her hands on a paper towel. "So I'll wait. When you want to talk, when you think it's okay to talk…please don't hesitate to. Until then, I'll wait."

He watches as Kobayakawa drops the used paper into the bin, mind reeling. He clears his throat. "That's a shitload of trust."

Kobayakawa shrugs. "That's because I do trust you. So does Kurita-san and Musashi-san, I reckon."

"Keh." He knows this. He's not an idiot; his brothers have been with him for years, with no signs of leaving. That day at lunch, when he told them his birthday and summarizing his fallout with his father after years of silence; both had listened attentively, showing no judgment of the fact that the infamous Devil of Deimon actually has emotions and later, tells him straight up that he can trust them enough to believe he can rely on them even when he doesn't need to.

When Kobayakawa makes a move to pass him and return to her seat, his hand reaches out for her before he even realizes it, grasping the brunette's arm in a firm grip and states clearly. "Three questions."

"…What?"

He can reach out if it's to Kobayakawa Sena. "You heard me. So, question number one. Go."

Watching Kobayakawa deal with his mercurial tendencies is hysterical.

Yōichi doesn't even mean that in a cruel way. Kobayakawa picks up on things that piques her endless curiosity with a speed that's not just limited to her feet and it's frankly dizzying. For some reason, Kobayakawa is invested in knowing and understanding  _him_. He's annoyed by it but at the same time, he can admit that he's a bit flattered by the way Kobayakawa reaches out to him all this time, not only because she's curious about him but it's also because she made it abundantly clear that he's a person first and foremost instead of just his multiple reputations. Kobayakawa has been bombarded with all sorts of insanity since meeting him and the Devil Bats, and she's adapted admirably. Yōichi wonders how much of that is because of circumstances and experiences, how much of it is innate brilliance and how much of it is just hidden stubbornness.

In any case, the girl learns fast. Light speed fast.

But Yōichi's bizarre and mercurial idiosyncrasies always throw Kobayakawa for a millisecond. She'll look flabbergasted, all wide eyed and pouting then, she'll take a deep breath. He almost finds it...adorable. Especially since Kobayakawa never leaves. No matter how intense he can be, Kobayakawa always, always stays.

Kobayakawa grabs his left wrist, thumb pressing gently against his pulse point. "How are you?"

Yōichi blinks. He really shouldn't be surprised that instead of prying about his past and secrets, Kobayakawa asks him this instead. But he is. "You have to be more specific, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa taps her head. "Up here." Then she places a hand to her heart. "In here." And to his amusement, Kobayakawa bites her lip as she gestures up and down at him.

"You just gestured all of me."

"Well…yeah."

If he can trust the running back enough to give her the inrō, then he supposes he can do this much. "Tired, confused, frustrated." He runs his tongue over his fangs and admits. "Worried."

Kobayakawa nods, thumb rubbing his wrist soothingly.

He inclines his head. "Two."

"What do you need?" Kobayakawa asks eventually.

The answer is almost a reflex. "Victory."

Kobayakawa shakes her head, eyes unwavering. "Need, not want. I think you've always known what you want, Hiruma-san. But right now, I'm asking what you need."

He won't waste their time by saying it's the same thing when really, it's not; he's learned that much over the years. He places his empty cup on the counter. "Answers. Solutions." He recalls some people's reactions in finding their answers, of their insecurities; he doesn't want to waste time in being lost. "Resolution."

Kobayakawa lets go of his wrist and taps her chin before she gestures at his empty cup.

He declines with a shake of his head. "Three." He passes the cup to Kobayakawa, watching the younger teen rinses the cup with a contemplative frown.

Kobayakawa looks at him under her bangs, eyes worried and earnest. "May we help?"

He arches a brow. "You mean you."

The running back shakes her head. "No, I meant we. I don't think I'd be enough to provide any help."

He disagrees. "But you want to anyway."

Kobayakawa gives him a firm nod. "Yes. With whatever little help I can give."

For a long while, he stares out of the galley, hears the snores of the other passengers but if he concentrates really hard, he can hear Kobayakawa's faint steady heartbeat. He doesn't have heightened hearing and perfect pitch for nothing, after all. Folding his arms he taps a rhythm on his arm before giving a one-shoulder shrug. "With the team, yeah."

Nodding, Kobayakawa follows him out of the galley. As they make their way down the aisles, he ignores the appreciative looks the on duty stewardesses throw at him.

"I don't get it," Kobayakawa mutters, almost to herself.

"Hm?" He looks down to see Kobayakawa frowning confusedly at the stewardesses.

"Why is it that no one realizes how attractive you are no matter how you look?"

Yōichi smirks. "You said that out loud."

After a beat, Kobayakawa hangs her head with a resigned sigh. "Sorry. I just…don't understand. I mean, sure, you look more comfortable like this but even with the saiyan hairstyle…"

He ignores the Dragonball reference; it's not the first time he's heard it after all. Kurita said the same thing once back in middle school. "Exactly."

"Eh?"

He gestures to his head. "They pay attention to the hair and the guns and the blackmail. Their fear can't really afford them to pay attention to anything else."

"But attractive people can be scary."

"I'm well aware." His parents are a prime example to that. "But the effects are faster this way."

When they arrive at the their seats, he tosses the blanket back to Kobayakawa. The girl catches it with a squeak and tucks it over her arm before adopting a nervous look. "Also…should I be worried about what you said? About you and I having fun."

Pausing on adjusting the sleeping Cerberus, he glances at Kobayakawa and sees the brunette staring right back at him. Right, he did say that. He remembers in making an exception for Kobayakawa and allowing her to help with one of his schemes while having fun in finally having someone to play with…

Yōichi blinks. "Oya?" Like being hit by a shinkansen, he's stunned to realize that just as Kobayakawa has never missed anything about him almost from the very beginning, he's been making exceptions for Kobayakawa for just as long.

He drops onto his seat.

The day he officially met Kobayakawa Sena comes back to him more easily than most memories. He remembers the rush he'd felt, watching such a petite girl sprint and weave around people with deft and practiced ease, the shock and glee he'd felt at discovering Kobayakawa's true speed immediately after he dumped her onto the field, and all the things that have begun from that point on.

Abruptly, Yōichi feels a thrill going down his spine by the memories of all the times Kobayakawa had gone up against him, both on and off the field, how the longer they know each other, the less Kobayakawa is likely to look or cower away from him; even in the face of his temper, like what happened back in the river and the gym.

He thinks just as suddenly of the fierce, empathic stare Kobayakawa had worn at the graduation party, all phenomenal presence and potential just waiting to burst out, and of the cheeky grin she'd wear whenever she feels particularly confident or playful.

And then there's the trip and everything that came with it. The challenge, the heist and free-fall, sharing a room and the recent boot camp.

They've done it all side by side like partners.

Like? No. Fuck that noise; as far as he's concern they  _are_  partners.

"Hiruma-san?"

Startled from his inner thoughts, Yōichi blinks at the other teen. "Hn?"

Kobayakawa adjusts the blanket around his shoulders and shit— when did that happened? Even with the coffee in his system, he's still tired enough not to notice Kobayakawa taking care of him. Stilling the girl's hands, he arches a brow at Kobayakawa, who bows her head slightly with an innocent smile. He is not fooled. Flicking the running back's ear, he then reaches a hand out to squish the running back's face, silencing Kobayakawa mid-yelp.

Kobayakawa huffs. "C'mon, Hiruma-san. What did you meant by that?"

 _'That I want to play with you. That I want us to be partners.'_  He thinks with a hum. "Later." Releasing the girl, he sees Kobayakawa is already pouting at him but nods nonetheless.

"Alright."

Kobayakawa returns to her seat, leaving the blanket with him. Scoffing, he adjusts it to cover his head before lying down and tucking his feet under Cerberus warm fur. Closing his eyes, he buries his nose into the earth-scented blanket and allows himself to sleep through the rest of the flight, dreaming of shōgi matches after dinner and a house filled with music by a redheaded songstress.

 

* * *

 

When they land at Haneda, Sena shoulders her bag as they disembark, feeling a knot of tension unwind at finally being back home in Japan. Even though the trip to Indiana was great, there's no denying the fact that there's no place like home. Tightening her jacket to stave off the cool air, she follows the team as they make their way towards the seats in front of the arrival notification boards. She settles herself into one of the seats, sitting between her two dozing best friends and tries to fight off the rest of her jet lag. Since her phone is confiscated at the moment (she's glad that she already mailed her parents about coming back) she instead checks her bag for something to do and feeling unsurprised on finding her blanket, folded sloppily inside. Sena bites back a smile. For someone so meticulous, Hiruma can be really messy. Stretching a bit, she pulls out a manga to read, feeling a lot better compared to when they first left Indiana. At least the twelve-hour flight allows her to get some rest after all of that training. Sena really has to wonder how she survived.

"Fucking chibi."

Sena looks up to see Hiruma standing in front of her, one hand in his pocket while the other balances his signature rifle out in the open. That's another thing she always wonders. While his guns aren't filled with real, dangerous bullets, the sight of them should've at least cause a bit of a stir considering Japan's gun laws. Then again, the fact that Japanese officials at security didn't even bat an eye shows that they're used to Hiruma's ways. Sena wouldn't be surprised if Hiruma has every Japanese officials under his control.

Closing her manga, she gives Hiruma a questioning smile. "Yes, Hiruma-san?"

Hiruma gestures his head sharply to the side. "Lets go."

Confused, she observes Hiruma for a moment. She's grateful to see the shade of fatigue has since disappeared from the captain's eyes, starbursts appearing to be a serene forest green and sees the relaxed and casual way he carries himself. Sena stands and looks concernedly around at their teammates.

As if reading her mind, (which she doesn't doubt he can if given the chance) Hiruma smirks at her. "Porker and Cerberus will handle things. Now, c'mon."

Nodding, she falls into step beside Hiruma, who, for some reason lets out a chuckle as their arms brush. Hiruma leads them to a taxi nearby the exit, sliding in to the back seat of the vehicle next to a quietly humming Hiruma, who then rattles of the address to Deimon High, piquing Sena's curiosity even more. Knowing that she'll have her answers soon enough, she leans her head against the car window, watching the familiar scenery passing them by. It's good to see the cherry blossoms already in bloom, can hardly wait to spend Hanami with her family in the next few days.

The driver stops in front of the school and Sena doesn't have to see to know Hiruma is either blackmailing or broking a deal with the driver. Sena really hopes it's the latter. Since the driver looks nervous instead of terrified, she thinks that might be the case. Giving her thanks to the driver, she follows Hiruma into the empty school, looking around at the equally empty hallways and classrooms. Sena looks on curiously as Hiruma leads them into classroom 1-2 before the quarterback locks the doors and walks towards a TV that's place in front of the classroom. Curious, she trots up behind the quarterback to see that the side of the TV has three familiar names written on it and above them, all bright and bold is a statement for all to see.

WE'RE DEFINITELY GOING TO THE CHRISTMAS BOWL!

1-2

MUSASHI

KURITA

HIRUMA

"This is…" Tracing the words, she smiles, feeling warm that Hiruma brought her here, no matter what the reason may be. Hearing a window sliding open, Sena glances up to see Hiruma leaning out slightly, letting the spring breeze ruffle his hair. He looks deep in thought.

"Hiruma-san?"

The blond looks back at her before pushing away from the window, a hand reaching up to give his hair a rough ruffling, likely to remove the stiffness of his hair gel before carding and arranging it with his fingers into a style that Sena has only seen a few times while they were sharing a room, one that she's starting to realize is something Hiruma is most comfortable with; hair down, stylishly wild and messy as it frames his face, bringing attention to his looks and eyes. It's a contradicting look. With his hair down, Hiruma looks like his age, all young and vulnerable. And yet, he still retains that dangerous and devilish presence. A dangerous ikemen some would say.

Sena is shaken from her observation when Hiruma comes to stand in front of the blackboard, taking one of the chalks so he can write the four kanji of his name.

蛭魔 妖一

Before she can question Hiruma, the quarterback thrusts his hand to her in a handshake, a devious and playful smirk on his lips. "Hajimemashite."

Feeling more and more confused as this seems to look more like a self introduction, Sena looks at the hand in front of her then back up at Hiruma and back down to—

Wait.

A handshake? They're both Japanese and they're back home in Japan. One of the few times when a Japanese would extend their hand to another Japanese instead of a bow in an introduction is when they consider each other as...equals.

Equals.

Sena inhales sharply as the implication sinks in, gaping up at the now grinning Hiruma. Flustered, she scrutinizes Hiruma's eyes and sees bright emerald, clear of bluffs.

 _Truth_ , her mind whispers. One of the few times that Hiruma chooses to be directly truthful without fanfare and for some reason, it's with Sena. She has no idea what she's done to earn that but she's not gonna take it for granted. Refuses to.

It takes a bit of effort to still her suddenly shaking hands but she does it and after swallowing a few times, she takes a deep breath and releases it steadily. Then, slowly and carefully, Sena extends her hand to grasps Hiruma's proffered one in a firm grip. Sena looks at Hiruma in the eyes as she replies clearly if a bit shakily. "Hajimemashite."

The edges of Hiruma's grin morphs into something that resembles a smile as the captain shakes her hand firmly before releasing it. Hiruma inclines his head to the blackboard with a cackle. "My name is Hiruma Yōichi."

Giggling, she takes one of the chalks and writes her own name beside Hiruma's own.

小早川 瀬那   蛭魔 妖一

Sena taps the blackboard with a grin. "And my name is Kobayakawa Sena." Sena bites her bottom lip. "Most likely you already know all of this but since this is a Jikoshōkai…" She coughs into her fist then folds her hands in front of her. "I'm 15 years old. I was born on the 21st of December 1989. My father is Kobayakawa Shūma who is a lawyer and my mother is Kobayakawa Mihae, a florist. I'm an only child but uh," She sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. "I have two people who are pretty much like my siblings. One is Anezaki Mamori-neechan and the other is the boy who taught me to run, Kaitani Riku."

Hiruma acknowledges that little tidbit with a hum.

"Lets see," Sena mutters, tapping her chin. "I'm 155 cm, which I think makes me 5"1 and I'm 40 kg. What else…oh! My blood type is A." Grinning, she bows to the quarterback. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, Hiruma Yōichi-san."

Hiruma snorts, leaning to the side against the blackboard with his signature smirk. "So damn formal."

Sena shrugs, smiling uncontrollably because now that she thinks about it, they didn't really have that much of an introduction when they met. It feels nice to be able to do this. Thinking that's that, she swivels back to the board and picks up the eraser. A hand covers her own, stilling the movement. Sena looks curiously up at Hiruma, who raises a brow and says simply.

"My turn."

Sena blinks, feeling both surprised and pleased. Honestly, she doesn't expect anything more than what Hiruma is willing to give so instead of saying anything, she turns her hand to briefly squeeze Hiruma's before letting go, giving Hiruma her full attention.

Hiruma folds his arms and pops his gum with a sharp snap. "I'm 16 years old. Born on February 7th 1989. Father is Hiruma Yūya, shōgi player and freelance surgeon. Mother—" Hiruma pauses, a shade of dark sea green flashes from the starbursts before it recedes back into bright emerald. Sena frowns, concerned at the new color and wonders at the meaning to garner such a reaction.

She gets her answer when Hiruma continues after a heavy swallow. "My mother was Hiruma Kiyoka." Sena stills at the past tense. "She was a composer and singer-songwriter." While his face is calm, she can detect a hint of old grief in the lines of Hiruma's features. Though her mind whirs with questions, she instead holds her tongue and with an aching heart, bows her head low in respect.

Hiruma nods in acknowledgement, face clearing. "I'm an only child. However," Hiruma gives a one-shoulder shrug, smirking ruefully. "I got two brothers by oath. Fucking sakazuki."

Sena giggles. Kurita had been especially enthusiastic in retelling that particular story.

Hiruma cracks a knuckle. "Height: 176 centimeters which makes me 5"9. Weight: 67 kilograms. Blood type: AB. That's all."

Reaching out, she brushes her fingers to one of Hiruma's wrist and smiles, hoping to convey the gratitude she feels. "Thank you, Hiruma-san."

Shrugging, the blond pushes away from the board, inclining his head into a slight bow. "Yoroshiku, Kobayakawa Sena."

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Sena merely bows back. When she rights herself, she points questioningly to the board. Hiruma responds by tossing one of the erasers to her with a grin. Catching it, she shakes her head and works quietly with the quarterback. Once the board is clean, she dusts her hands off from the excess chalk, watching curiously as Hiruma returns to his perch by the window. Joining him, Sena folds her arms on the windowsill and places her chin on top of them, reveling the fresh spring breeze.

"Partners," Hiruma states quietly. Turning her head so that her arms pillow her cheek, Sena watches as Hiruma mirrors her position, shades of mischief and glee colors the emerald of his eyes. Hiruma gives her a slow, playful smirk. "That's what I meant."

Sena closes her eyes, breathing out a watery laugh at the flash of clarity in her mind, understanding why Hiruma waited until they're back in Japan to explain, in the place they call home while at sunset with the cherry blossoms almost in full bloom. Because even though they're American football players, they're Japanese first and foremost; symbolisms and traditions are literally in their blood and they're in the cusp of creating a new one, of having an end and a beginning in one setting. To be equals and partners.

"Partners," she echoes, overwhelmed and self-conscious. "Are you really okay with me?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't," Hiruma cackles. "So, yes or no?"

Anyone else would've balk or doubt or at least be suspicious of what exactly being the partner to one Hiruma Yōichi will entail but Sena hasn't spend the past few months ignorant or blind, can't really afford to considering those traits will result in all sorts of trouble when going up against Hiruma. The quarterback is far from nice but Sena knows enough that Hiruma will never hurt people unless warranted; will never be cruel for the sake of cruelty. So, trusting her intuition, combined with all that she knows about Hiruma or at least the things that Hiruma has allowed her to know, Sena answers without hesitation.

"Yes."

The grin that Hiruma gives her is both devilish and boyish in equal parts, eyes crinkling at the edges in what she thinks is a bit of a telltale sign that it's sincere and Sena doesn't know what to do but to smile back, shy and impossibly fond. Nudging the quarterback's shoulder companionably, Sena glances down from the window to see a familiar sight of the field and the clubhouse. Huh, that's nice.

Sena tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "Uh…out of curiosity, with the TV and all, was this your classroom with Kurita-san and Musashi-san?"

Hiruma nods, eyes tracing a few stray petals dancing nearby. "And now it's yours."

"Mine?"

"Hn. Checked the student roster. You're in this class with the fucking sankyōdai."

"Hmmm. I guess it's a good thing to separate them and Komu. They might end up causing quite a mess with their rivalry." Sena shrugs. "Can't help but wish I'm in the same class with Monta and Komu though."

Hiruma snickers. "That can be arranged." That...sounds less like a favour and more like an excuse to cause mayhem.

Sena immediately shakes her head. "It's okay. Thank you though." She stretches her arms out of the window, trying to catch the petals. "I'm really looking forward to this."

Hiruma's face splits into his deranged grin as he steals a few petals right from her grasp. "Are you now?"

Sena retaliates by blowing them away in a big burst, causing some of them to end up in their hair. They burst out laughing. It's a silly thing to laugh about really but they're exhausted and comfortable and this feels really, really nice. It's not all that different from usual but at the same time, it's so very different; very much like there's another dimension to their relationship that wasn't there before but now is.

Once she has her giggles under control, Sena shifts closer to press their foreheads together, basking in the familiar scent of the quarterback. "I am," Sena whispers to Hiruma's question. Sena grins, feeling playful as she quips Hiruma's words back to him. "You and I are gonna have so much fun together, after all."

Hiruma presses back with a cackle. "Hell yeah we are."

It's an end and a beginning all in one.


End file.
